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SICILIAN   WAYS   AND   DAYS 


A  SOLITARY  BRIDGE."    (Page  141.) 


"  THE  ROCK-BOUND  SHRINE."    (Page  158.) 


Frontispiece 


SICILIAN 
WAYS   AND   DAYS 


BY 

LOUISE  GAICO 


WITH    ONE     HUNDRED    AND 
TWENTY-EIGHT  ILLUSTRATIONS 


NEW  YORK 
D.    APPLETON   AND    COMPANY 

1910 


y^^Z 


k-^ 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

Preface,  or  Foreword       -             -  -  -  -        xi 

How  WE  Arrived  at  Montedoro  -  -  -  -         1 

My  Room   -------       23 

The  Madonna's  Arrival    -             -  -  -  -       44 

Marriage  Customs-             -             -  -  -  -       47 

The  Feast  of  St.  Joseph-             -  -  -  -       57 

Lent  and  Easter  -             -             -  -  -  -       73 

Christening  Customs          -             -  -  -  -       97 

Lunch  at  Serradifalco     -             -  -  -  -     109 

Harvest     -             -             -             -  -  -  -115 

San  Calogero         -             -             -  -  -  -133 

A  Cup  of  Coffee  at  Rabbione      -  -  -  -     141 

Funeral  Customs  -             -             -  -  -  -     148 

Racalmuto  and  Mount  Castelluccio  -  -  -     158 

A  Stabbing  Fight               -             -  -  -  -     l66 

Sulphur  Mines  and  Miners           -  -  -  -     170 

Santa  Lucia's  Festival     -             -  -  -  -     188 

Christmas  -             -             -             -  -  -  -192 

A  Summer  Day  at  Montedoro     _  -  -  -     221 

Index         ....---     275 


271833 


LIST   OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 

FACING  PAGE 

"  A  Solitary  Bridge  "  ] 

"  The  Rock-bound  Shrine  "  j  "  '  FrorUi^iece 

"  The  Campieri  '*     -              -              -              -              -              -  20 

"  The  Little  Station  of  Serradifalco "          -             -             -  20 

"  The  Men  who  look  after  our  Property  "  -              -              -  24 

"  A  Dismally  Small  Canary-yellow  Box  "    -              -              -  24 

"  A  Massive  Brass  Basin  "  -             -             -             -             -  26 

"  A  few  Handsome  Water-jugs "    -              -              -              -  26 

"Sicilian  Child"    .-..--  34 

"  Donna  Letizia "  -              -              -              -              -              -  34 

"  My  Friend  Leone "  -  -  -  -  -36 

"  My  other  Friends,  the  Horses  "  -             -             -             -  S6 

"  An  Old  Man  dressed  in  a  Violet  Robe  "  -             -             -  38 

«'  Church  at  Montedoro "    -             -             -              -              -  38 

"  The  Village  Houses "      -             -             -             -             -  40 

"  A  Little  Fountain "          -              -              -              -             -  40 

"  In  a  Horizontal  Position  when  Empty  "  -              -              -  42 

"  Standing  up  when  Full "               -              -              -              -  42 

''Drawn  by  a  Grey  Mule"               -              -              -              -  46 

"  On  her  Way  to  Church  "               ....  46 

Fetching  Water      ------  48 

Going  to  the  Fountain        -              -              -             -              -  48 

"  Pottery  needed  in  the  House "    -             -             -             -  52 

"  The  Bride  escorted  by  her  Women-folk "             -             -  52 

"  The  Procurator c  of  the  Festa  "      -              -              -              -  58 

"  A  Little  Maid  of  Fifteen "            -             -             -             -  58 

"  The  Terrible  Drums "      -              -              -              -              -  62 

"  The  Band  began  to  play "         .    -             -             -             -  62 


vm 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 


FACING  PAGE 

"  A  Sack  of  Corn  was  placed  on  a  Mule  "  -  -  -66 

"  The  Feast  of  St.  Joseph ''-...  66 

"  On  their  Way  to  Church "            -             -             -  -  68 

"  The  Band  going  to  Church "        -             -             -  -  68 

"  The  Calvary "      -             -             -             -             -  -  72 

"  This  Large  Stand  was  supported  on  Two  Long  Poles  "    -  72 

"  Leader  in  the  Lenten  Lamentations  "     -             -  -  74 

"  The  Palm  of  the  Lam^ore "          -              -             -  -  74 

The  Fratelli            -             -             -             -             -  -  76 

"  Men  and  Boys  each  carrying  a  Palm  "     -             -  -  76 

"  Men  and  Children  carrying  Palms "          -              -  -  78 

"  The  Wide  Piazza "           -             -             -             -  -  78 

"  The  Virginedde "               -              -             -             -  -  80 

"  The  Addolorata "               .             .              .             .  _  80 

"The  Urna''           -              -              -              -              -  -  82 

"  The  Addolorata "                -              .              .              _  .  82 

"  The  Steep  Path  in  the  Direction  of  the  Calvary  "  -  84 

"  A  Red  and  Yellow  Silk  Canopy  "             -             -  -  84 

The  Crucifixion      -             -             -             -             -  -  88 

"  At  the  Foot  of  the  Cross  "            -             -             -  -  88 

"  He  held  his  Hands  in  the  Attitude  of  Prayer  "  -  -  92 

"Peppe"  --.--.-  92 

"  St.  John  "...-.-  96 

"  The  Incontro "      -  -  -  -  -  -96 

"  I  am  '  Compare  San  Giovanni  *  with  Peppe  "         -  -  100 

"He  and  I  are  *  Compari  San  Giovanni !'  "               -  -  100 

The  Black  Cloth  Mantellina             -             .             -  -  104 

"  Tradesmen's  Wives  and  Daughters  wear  Shawls ''  -  1 04 

"  Alessandro's  Dante-like  Profile  "              -             -  -  110 

Serradifalco             -             -             -             -             -  -  110 

Alessandro  -  -  -  -  -  -112 

Mastru  Federico     -  -  -  -  -  -112 

"  Two-handled  Greek-looking  Pitchers "    -             -  -  114 

"  Women  were  filling  their  Tall  Pitchers  "               -  -  114 

The  Calvary            -             -             -             -             -  -  ll6 

Ascension  Day  Celebration              -             -             -  -  1 1 6 

Ripe,  Golden  Corn               -             -             -             -  -  118 

"  They  all  advance  together "         -             -             -  -  118 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS  ix 


FACING   PAGE 


The  Reapers           -             -             -  -  -  -  122 

"  Evviva  San  Ca.ogero  T'     -             -  -  -  -  122 

Tossing  the  Straw                -              -  -  -  -  ]  24 

The  Threshing-place           -             -  -  -  -  124 

Ploughing                -              -              -        •  .  .  -  126 

Mastru  Federico     -              -              -  -  -  -  126 

"  Name  of  God !"  -              -              -  .  .  -  128 

"  He  filled  the  Measure  "  -----  128 

"  The  Sicilian  F«/^orm "      -              -  -  -  -  142 

"  Begging  for  Corn  for  his  Convent  "  -  -  -  142 

"  Don  Vincenzo  and  Overseer "      -  -  -  -  146 

*' Evviva  Sa?i  Calogero /"      -              -  -  -  -  146 

"  Alessandro's  Wealth  of  Children  "  -  -  -  1 52- 

A  Sign  of  Mourning            -             -  -  -  -  1 52 

"  Washing  was  going  on  "  -              -  -  .  -  158 

"  Filling  their  Pitchers  at  a  Fountain "  -  -  -  158 

"  Racalmuto  and  the  Castle "          -  -  -  -  l60 

"  A  Flock  of  Milk-white  Goats "    -  -  -  -  l60 

" A  Small  Chapel"             -             -  -  -  -  l64 

"  Castle  of  the  Chiai^monte  at  Racalmuto  "  -  -  l64 

"  The  Carabinieri"               -              -  -  .  -  l68 

"  They  waited,  ready  to  Fire "        -  -  -  -  l68 

"  Several  Entrances  to  the  Mines  "  -  -  -  170 

"  A  Row  of  Battered,  Abandoned  Little  Houses  "  -  -  1 70 

"  A  Pair  of  Horns  set  above  the  Door"  -  -  -  172 

"A  Calcherone  lifts  its  Round  Head "  -  -  -  172 

*'  Coming  up  in  Sad  Procession  "    -  -  -  -  1 74 

"  Re-entering  the  Mine  "  -             -  -  -  -  174 

"TheCarusi"        -              -              -  -  -  -  176 

"  The  Stern  Overseer "      -             -  -  -  -  176 

"  Sulphur  Mounds,  called  Cfl/cAerom" "  -  -  -  178 

"  Rough  Ore  being  carried  by  Special  Workmen  "  -  178 

"  Large  Loaves  called  Pawo^^i"       -  -  -  .180 

"  Large  Rectangular  Wooden  Moulds "  -  -  -  180 

Water  brought  in  Pitchers  on  a  Mule  -  -  -  182 

"  Pale  Yellow  Blocks  called  Balate"  -  -  -  182 

"  The  Sulphur  Squares  are  Weighed  "  -  -  -  184 

"  Wooden  Mound  containing  Liquid  Sulphur "       -  -  184 


X  LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 

FACING   PAGE 

Gill  Furnaces          -             -             -             -             -  -  186 

"Every  Mine  has  these  Gilt  Furnaces  now"           -  -  186 

"  The  Youngest  was  Blind  "             -             -             -  -  190 

"  Broken-down  Little  Houses  "      -             -             -  -  190 

A  Humble  Dwelling           -             -             -             -  -  194 

"  An  Old  Man  who  plays  on  the  Bagpipe  "             -  -  194' 

Sicilian  Child        -                -              .              .              -  .  226 

A  Villager               -              -              -              -              -  -  226 

"  Feeding  the  Hens "         -             -             -             -  -  230 

Herd  of  Milk-white  Goats               -             -             -  -  230 

"  Santo  Grooms  the  Horses "          -             -             -  .  234 

Donkey,  with  Panniers  on  either  Side        -             -  -  234 

«  A  Grandmother  of  the  Place  "    -             -             -  -  236 

"  A  Pool  of  Sulphurous  Water  "     -              -              .  -  236 

"  A  Friendly  Engineer  comes  over  for  the  Day  "  -  -  242 

"  Cluster  of  Low  Grey  Houses  "     -             -             -  -  242 

"  The  Laundress  "               .....  246 

Women  going  to  the  Benediction  Service  -             -  -  246 

"  The  Young  but  Gentle  Bay  Mare "          -              -  -  252 

Santo's  House        .-._..  252 

"  My  Escort "          -              -              -              -              -  -  256 

"  The  Crest  of  a  Hilly  Ridge  "       -             -             -  -  256 

"  The  Dismal  Cluster  of  Cypresses  "...  262 

"  Montedoro,  which  looked  White  and  Peaceful "  -  -  262 


FOREWORD 

The  following  account  of  the  manners  and  custonns  _ 
of  Sicilians  has  been  written  down  on  the  spot  from 
first-hand  acquaintance  with  the  people,  gained  by 
a  long  residence  amongst  them,  in  the  province  of 
Caltanissetta,  a  region  as  yet  unaffected  by  travellers 
or  by  contact  with  the  outer  world. 

Many  of  the  scenes  and  sayings  described  would 
be  a  "  sealed  book  "  to  anyone  not  acquainted  with 
SiciUans,  and  even  those  who  are  would  not  be 
able  to  participate  in  them,  unless  admitted  to  the 
intimacy  of  Sicihans,  who  are  by  nature  secretive 
and  suspicious  of  outsiders. 

Liability  to  brigandage  is  more  than  once  alluded 
to.  This  should  not  deter  visitors  from  coming  to 
the  island.  They  have  nothing  to  fear.  Travellers 
might  pass  by  the  most  unfrequented  regions  with 
impunity  ;  it  is  the  residents  whom  the  lawless  aim 
at,  especially  persons  who  have  landed  property  or 
vested  interest  in  the  land.     Some  private  quarrel 


xii  FOREWORD 

or  some  local  political  difference  or  rivalry  is  usually 
the  motive  rather  than  the  ransom  demanded.  The 
absence  of  motive  and  the  difficulty  of  communi- 
cating with  the  families  of  strangers  gives  them 
their  security. 

It  would  not  be  inappropriate  to  give  a  few  words 
of  comment  about  some  of  the  customs  described 
in  this  work,  which  will  enable  the  reader  to  under- 
stand and  appreciate  them  better,  and,  with  the 
help  of  his  own  erudition,  perceive  their  analogy 
with  ancient  history,  or,  better  still,  mythology. 

In.  "  Funeral  Customs  "  we  see  the  dead  carried 
in  an  arm-chair  around  the  village,  a  custom 
which  is  lost  now,  though  an  exception  is  made  in 
the  smaller  villages  in  favour  of  the  parish  priest 
when  he  dies,  and  we  find  that  this  exception  is 
maintained  also  in  Tuscany,  at  S.  Stefano  di 
Calcinaia. 

That  this  is  a  very  old  custom  can  be  seen  by 
some  sculptures  on  Greek  and  Roman  tombs,  where 
corpses  are  carried  in  this  lugubrious  manner. 

In  Palermo,  until  1860,  the  dead  were  carried 
to  the  cemetery  sitting  up  in  a  portantina  (sedan- 
chair). 

In  "  Funeral  Customs  "  we  find  also  that  a  dinner 
is  always  sent  in  for  the  bereaved  family's  use. 


FOREWORD  xiii 

We  do  not  think  this  is  an  atavic  remnant  of  the 
banquets  which  the  Romans  held  by  the  side  of  the 
tombs,  mentioned  by  Cicero,  but  rather  a  charitable 
intention  of  enabling  the  family  to  take  food  in  a 
time  of  trouble,  when  it  might  be  unseemly  as  well 
as  inconvenient  to  think  about  meals. 

And  the  name  they  give  at  Montedoro  to  this 
meal — the  C07izu,  called  at  Palermo  cunsolu — may 
originate  from  the  verb  co7isolare,  to  console;  or, 
better  still,  from  the  Sicilian  verb  cunzari,  to  set  or 
lay  out  anything,  the  dinner-table  especially. 

The  harvest  customs  are  the  most  poetic  we 
witnessed  amongst  the  peasants  at  Montedoro, 
beginning  at  the  Rogation  outdoor  service,  whgn 
the  parish  priest  goes  out  to  bless  the  cornfieldsfC 

This  reminds  us,  as  it  should,  of  an  old  Roman 
custom.  In  a  spot  half  an  hour  from  Rome,  on 
the  Via  Campana,  there  was  a  wood  sacred  to  the 
goddess  Dia  (Nature,  also  called  Maia,  whence 
the  month  of  May).  The  f rati  Arvali  campestres 
sacerdotes  lived  there,  and  offered  sacrifices  for 
the  welfare  of  agriculture,  especially  during 
three  days  of  May,  when  they  went  out  in  proces- 
sion, singing  as  they  walked :  "  O  gods,  O  Mars  ! 
defend  us  from  calamities,  from  misfortunes  !" 
We  see  the  Sicilian  peasant  during  harvest-time 


xiv  FOREWORD 

toiling  under  a  sky  of  fire  for  very  little  beyond  his 
scant  nourishment,  but  can  anything  be  more  touch- 
ing than  his  devotion  to  his  favourite  saints,  his 
invocations  to  them  before,  during,  and  after  work, 
adorning  thus  with  a  halo  of  solemnity  the  prosaic 
reality  of  his  work  and  expressing  his  pathetic 
endurance  ? 

The  quaint  and  beautiful  "  Praises  of  the  Lord," 
sung  on  the  threshing-floor,  must  have  a  very 
ancient  origin ;  many  have  traced  in  them  the 
worship  of  Demeter  and  Persephone,  and  the  same 
pagan  origin  can  be  given  to  the  habit  of  dividing 
the  corn  by  beginning  to  count  with  the  words  : 
"  In  the  name  of  God  !"  Does  not  this  remind  us 
of  the  pagan  ab  Jove  principio  ? 

The  Lenten  dirges  are  equally  ancient,  and  their 
name  is  legion.  We  give  only  a  short  example  of 
them  in  this  work,  but  they  are  interminable,  and 
vary  from  province  to  province.  They  are  without 
doubt  a  remembrance  of  the  lamentations  sung  at 
funerals  by  hired  mourners  {pixficce)  long  beibre 
the  Christian  era. 

And  since  we  have  alluded  to  the  Lenten  and 
Easter  ceremonies,  we  should  mention  the  curious 
outdoor  function  of  the  Incontro  (meeting)  between 
Mary  and  her  Son  on  Easter  morning.     In  some 


FOREWORD  XV 

places  the  Virgin  alone  is  carried  about  in  the 
fields,  looking  for  her  son,  and  we  agree  with  Paton, 
who,  in  his  Picturesque  Sicily  (p.  252),  says  that, 
more  than  an  evangelical  image,  this  is  "  a  reminder 
of  the  wanderings  of  Demeter  in  search  of  the  lost 
Persephone.  The  more  one  studies  the  mythology 
of  ancient  Trinacria,  the  more  firmly  he  becomes 
convinced  that  the  early  Christian  Fathers  founded 
many  ceremonies  upon  the  pagan  rites  which 
inspired  the  devotion  of  the  Greeks  and  the 
Romans.  We  can  gain  much  knowledge  from  the 
writings  of  classic  authors  concerning  the  ritual  of 
the  worship  of  Demeter,  and  it  is  safe  to  say  that 
Christian  priests  have  added  little  to  that  ritual, 
have  taken  little  from  it,  and  to-day  religious 
ceremonies  practised  by  the  farming  communities 
of  Sicily  are  essentially  the  same  as  they  were 
twenty- five  centuries  ago,  with  the  exception  that 
Christian  saints  have  usurped  the  honours  and 
dignities  of  pagan  deities." 

In  fact,  can  anything  more  pagan  be  imagined 
than  the  crowd  flourishing  flaming  torches  and 
yelling  around  the  bonfires  at  Santa  Lucia's  festival? 
Is  not  this  a  distant  reproduction  of  the  old  fire- 
worship  ? 

The  big  drums,  which  play  such  a  conspicuous 


xvi  FOREWORD 

and  noisy  part  at  all  religious  ceremonies,  have 
a  more  recent  origin,  being  probably  an  Arabo- 
Saracenic  importation. 

The  bond  of  friendship  which  unites  for  life  the 
two  compari  at  a  christening  ceremony  can  have 
many  distant  causes  and  origins.  We  incline  to 
give  the  preference  to  what  the  well-known  Sicilian 
writer,  Ragusa  Moleti,  says  about  the  possible 
origin  of  this  spiritual  relationship  : 

"It  is  allowable  to  suppose  that  the  compare 
brotherhood  between  two  men  may  have  originated 
in  their  need  for  reciprocal  help,  and  this  need 
would  arise  all  the  more  spontaneously  in  the 
heart  of  men  who  were  by  nature  refractory  to  all 
authority  above  them.  Whoever  feels  he  may  not 
suffice  to  himself  in  life  seeks  to  give  and  receive 
strength  in  the  brotherly  friendship  of  another 
man.  This  is  the  feeling  which  gave  birth  to  those 
ancient  ties  known  as  brothers -in -arms  (^fratelh 
d'armi)  between  the  knights,  of  which  medieval 
history  is  full.  Before  the  times  of  knighthood  in 
Gallic  Brittany,  when  two  men  swore  friendship 
to  each  other,  they  used  to  tie  themselves  together 
for  battle,  so  as  to  fight  side  by  side,  and  when  the 
one  died  the  other  often  killed  himself,  so  as  to 
join  his  friend's  soul  in  the  other  world.     Probably 


FOREWORD  xvii 

this  custom  passed  over  from  Brittany  to  Nor- 
mandy, and  the  Normans  may  have  brought  it  to 
Sicily,  where,  degenerating  according  to  times  and 
civiKzation,  the  christening  of  a  child  became  the 
occasion  for  sealing  with  a  sacred  tie  the  friendship 
of  two  men  who  would  need  each  other's  help 
during  life." 

The  travelled  reader  will  find  much  in  these 
Sicilian  descriptions  which  has  not  come  under 
his  observation.  He  must  not,  therefore,  conclude 
that  the  things  described  did  not  happen.  It 
simply  means  that  between  him  and  the  inner  life 
of  the  people  there  was  a  veil  he  was  unable  to 
lift. 

And  now,  before  leaving  the  volume  in  the 
benevolent  reader's  hand,  the  author  must  crave 
the  indulgence  of  the  critical  for  the  illustrations, 
taken  with  a  small-sized  Kodak  camera  at  a  time 
when  the  possibility  of  their  being  published  was 
not  even  contemplated. 


SICILIAN  WAYS  AND  DAYS 

HOW  WE   ARRIVED   AT 
MONTEDORO 

A  PLEASANT  journey  by  sea  from  Genoa  to  Palermo, 
three  days'  shopping  in  Palermo,  and  then  six  hours' 
railway  journey  in  that  fraud  commonly  called 
treno  diretto  across  the  solitary  interior  regions 
of  Sicily,  stopping  at  the  lonely  little  station  of 
Serradifalco,  in  the  province  of  Caltanissetta,  the 
only  Sicilian  province  not  washed  by  the  sea. 

Several  uncouth-looking  men  are  about  us  at 
once ;  they  look  picturesque  in  their  brown  fustian 
or  velvet,  muddy  top-boots,  skullcaps  and  cartridge- 
belts — they  all  carry  firearms.  My  anxiety — I  took 
them  for  brigands — is  quickly  dispelled  by  the 
explanation,  kindly  volunteered,  that  these  are  the 
best  friends  and  trusty  servants  of  the  family, 
called  campieri  (private  rural  guards  and  overseers). 

19  2—2 


20         SICILIAN  WAYS  AND  DAYS 

They  seize  on  our  luggage  and  on  our  persons, 
which  are  packed  into  a  dismally  small  canary- 
yellow  box  perched  on  high  wheels,  pierced  with 
little  cage -windows  and  drawn  by  three  bony 
creatures,  more  like  skeletons  in  harness,  except 
that  the  harness  here  consists  of  rope  and  string. 
This  is  the  vehicle  which  will  take  us  to  Montedoro, 
covering  the  distance  of  nearly  nine  miles  at  the 
rate  of  four  miles  an  hour,  without  counting 
occasional  stoppages  to  mend  the  harness  or  pick 
up  any  article  of  luggage  which  may  bump  off 
from  the  roof  of  our  box.  We  arrange  our  legs 
and  elbows  so  as  to  fit  in  with  the  least  possible 
inconvenience,  and  we  begin  to  move.  The 
campieri,  needless  to  say,  mount  their  horses, 
carrpng  their  rifles  in  front  of  them  across  the 
saddle,  and  ride  after  the  carriage. 

They  point  out  to  us  Montedoro  in  the  distance, 
and  we  screw  our  heads  out  of  the  cage-windows  to 
look  at  it,  as  it  lies  on  a  distant  plateau  surrounded 
by  crags  and  valleys.  Its  eastern-looking,  low,  flat- 
roofed  houses  smile  in  the  sunshine,  mellowed  and 
beautified  by  the  distance.  The  background  is 
formed  by  a  chain  of  lofty  mountains,  with  the 
Rocca  di  Sutera  and  Mount  Cammarata,  the 
latter  covered  with  snow,  and  giving  a  very  good 


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"THE  CAMPIERI."    (Page  19.) 


THE  LITTLE  STATION  OF  SERRADIFALCO."    (Page  19.) 


To  face  page  20. 


HOW  WE  ARRIVED  AT  MONTEDORO  21 

idea  of  the  Jungfrau,  of  which  it  has  the  out- 
hne. 

A  good  carriage-road,  mostly  used  by  sulphur- 
laden  carts,  meanders  up  and  about  low,  rounded 
hills  and  broad  valleys,  where  not  a  tree,  not  a 
house,  shows  the  presence  of  man  in  these  regions — 
nothing  but  corn,  young  green  corn,  covering  with 
its  emerald  hue  those  immense  stretches  of  land 
which  were  once  the  granary  of  Rome.  And  we 
go  on,  and  up,  never  losing  sight  of  Montedoro  on 
its  plateau,  at  about  500  metres  above  the  sea. 

At  last,  with  the  usual  cracks  of  the  whip  and 
convulsive  gallop  of  the  last  minute,  so  dear  to 
the  Sicilian  driver's  heart,  we  enter  Montedoro, 
turning  at  a  sharp  angle  of  the  road,  darting 
through  the  broad,  white  piazza,  and  stopping  in  a 
courtyard  in  front  of  an  old,  battered,  dilapidated, 
venerable-looking  building  which,  I  am  told,  is  our 
house. 

We  are  with  some  difficulty  extracted  out  of 
the  yellow  box ;  more  uncouth-looking  men  come 
to  take  the  luggage,  each  grasping  a  small  parcel 
and  carrying  it  single  file  into  the  house ;  some 
maids,  with  large  bangles  in  their  ears  and  broad 
smiles  on  their  countenances,  meet  us  in  the  door- 
way,  welcoming   us   with    the   usual    expression. 


22        SICILIAN  WAYS  AND  DAYS 

"  'Ssa  benedica  "  ^  and  their  mistress  immediately 
asks  whether  we  want  dinner,  at  which,  one  and 
all,  we  answer  we  should  dearly  like  to  wash 
first.  .  .  . 

It  was  then  that  my  early  experience  of  Sicilian 
ways  came  as  a  surprise  to  me,  as  will  be  seen  in 
the  following  pages,  where  I  have  attempted  to 
describe  my  room  such  as  I  found  it,  what  I 
discovered  in  it,  and  what  I  finally  made  of  it. 

*  Abbreviation  of  Vossia  benedica  (Your  Excellence,  bless  us). 


MY  ROOM 

On  the  point  of  beginning  a  descriptive  journey 
around  my  room,  I  can't  exactly  tell  why  I  thought 
it  more  appropriate  to  begin  with  my  bed. 

Is  it  because  I  find  it  as  nearly  comfortable  as 
anything  can  be  in  this  uncomfortable  house  ? 

Is  it  because  I  spend  in  it  the  best  part  of  the 
twenty-four  hours  ? 

The  real  reason,  I  think,  is  that  it  is  the  only 
bed  in  the  house. 

Sicilian  beds,  especially  in  the  interior  of  the 
island,  are  invariably  composed  of  two  iron 
trestles,  on  which  lie  three  deal  boards  painted  in 
sombre  green.  Upon  these  are  laid  some  half- 
dozen  mattresses  as  hard  as  a  miser  s  heart.  This 
is  a  Sicilian  bed,  and  a  more  ungainly  object  I 
have  never  seen,  especially  when,  during  the  day, 
these  mattresses  are  rolled  up  and  piled  on  each 
other,  with  the  sheets  and  counterpane  neatly 
folded  on   the   top,  conveying  thus  a  vague  im- 

23 


24         SICILIAN  WAYS  AND  DAYS 

pression  that  the  owner  of  the  bed  has  started  for 
a  lengthy  journey. 

My  bed  is  quite  different.  In  fact,  it  is  a  bed 
in  the  common,  accepted,  and  natural  sense  of  the 
word,  having  the  usual  springs,  with  only  one 
mattress,  though  that  tolerably  hard — a  thing 
which  ceased  to  disturb  me  when  I  heard  that 
this  mattress  had  been  made  some  ten  years 
before,  and  not  touched  since. 

How  this  unique  specimen  of  a  nearly  civilized 
bed  came  to  be  found  here  is  a  mystery  to  me. 
However,  here  it  is.  I  appropriated  it  the  day  we 
arrived,  guessing,  when  I  saw  it,  that  it  was  the 
only  bed  in  the  house  where  I  might  possibly  close 
my  eyes  in  sweet  oblivion  of  life  and  its  dull  cares. 

The  walls  of  this  room  have  remained  in  their 
rustic,  unfinished  state  ever  since  it  was  built, 
some  hundred  years  ago,  and  no  one  as  yet  has  had 
the  moral  courage  to  cover  them  with  the  paper 
which  was  bought  for  that  purpose  long  ago,  and 
which  fills  six  or  eight  chests  in  a  lumber-room 
downstairs. 

As  a  partial  and  temporary  correction  of  such  a 
dreadful  state  of  affairs,  I  have  covered  the  walls 
at  the  head  and  along  the  side  of  my  bed  with 
some  gay  silk  and  wool  rugs,  thus  putting  in  that 


•  » ."• .   •  *     ' 


THE  MEN  WHO  LOOK  AFTER  OUR  PROPERTY.      (Page  25.) 


A  DISMALLY  SMALL,  CANARY-YELLOW  BOX."    (Page  20.) 


To  face  page  24. 


MY  ROOM  25 

corner  a  touch  of  warm  colour  which  looks  very 
bright  by  the  barrenness  of  the  remaining  walls. 

In  close  proximity  to  my  bed  stands  a  small 
table,  where  a  few  books  and  magazines  show  the 
bad  habit  of  reading  in  bed,  a  thing  I  am  rather 
given  to  doing,  especially  on  rainy  mornings — 
fortunately  we  have  very  few  of  them — when  de- 
pression seems  to  float  in  the  air,  and  everything 
is  damp,  from  the  window-panes  to  our  spirits. 

Continuing  my  pilgrimage  round  my  room,  I 
come  upon  a  nice  art-serge  portiere,  black-flowered, 
on  red  ground.  It  comes  from  England,  and,  I  am 
sure,  feels  out  of  sorts  here. 

This  curtain  hides  a  door  leading  into  a  back 
room  where  I  have  my  washing  installation ;  but 
it  is  also  a  kind  of  public  room  where  everyone 
passes,  from  the  Sindaco  (Mayor)  of  the  place  to 
the  men  who  look  after  our  property,  and  come 
at  odd  hours  of  the  morning  and  evening,  but 
especially  of  the  morning,  to  see  the  Mayor  or 
the  mistress  of  the  house,  who  have  their  rooms 
beyond  my  washing-room,  which  thus  becomes 
the  passage  from  one  part  of  the  house  to  the 
other.  It  is  a  kind  of  neutral  zone  uniting  the 
two  apartments. 

My  courteous  reader,  who  is  plentifully  endowed 


26         SICILIAN  WAYS  AND  DAYS 

with  common-sense,  will  now  ask  why  I  put  myself 
to  the  inconvenience  of  washing  in  such  a  room 
when  it  would  be  so  simple  to  have  my  washing- 
stand  and  bath  brought  into  my  room,  which,  he 
guesses,  must  be  very  spacious. 

Alas !  I  did  try  to  bring  about  this  coup  detat 
during  the  first  week  of  my  stay  here,  but  had  to 
give  it  up,  for  I  found  I  was  going  against  one  of 
the  prejudices  most  cherished  by  Sicilians. 

They  think  it  very  bad  for  one's  health  to 
have  the  washing  utensils  in  one's  bedroom,  and, 
loose  as  they  are  in  their  principles  about  most 
things,  here  they  are  firm.  I  have  been  in  many 
Sicilian  houses,  fine  ones  and  poor  ones,  but,  with 
very  few  exceptions,  I  have  never  seen  a  washing- 
stand  in  a  bedroom  (except  in  hotels).  If  the 
houses  were  large  enough  to  allow  every  room  to 
have  its  own  bathroom,  I  should  have  nothing  to 
say ;  but  what  I  object  to  is  that  in  most  cases, 
even  with  well-to-do  families,  there  is  one  little 
toilet-room  or  closet,  where — I  am  speaking  the 
strict  truth — a  basin  on  an  old  chair  does  for  a 
washing-stand,  towels  hang  on  pegs,  a  few  hand- 
some water-jugs  stand  about,  and  the  dirty  water 
is  thrown  out  of  the  window  ! 

At  Montedoro  the  house  boasts  of  many  such 


»i    e         J       >  » 


J         »     7         » 


'A  MASSIVE  BRASS  BASIN."     (Page  26.) 


"  A  FEW  HANDSOME  WATER-JUGS."    (Page  2(5.) 


To  face  page  26. 


r    c    ^f   «*"'   e*^*-*"*   * 


MY  ROOM  27 

elementary  washing-closets,  but  I  have  found  that 
in  most  houses,  and  even  in  the  flats  at  Palermo, 
there  is  only  one  such  room,  where  all  the  members 
of  the  family,  without  distinction  of  sex  or  of  age, 
in  turns  go  and  wash,  after  they  have  put  on  their 
clothes  and  been  up  and  about  the  house  any  time, 
from  five  minutes  to  several  hours. 

As  soon  as  I  arrived  and  began  to  find  out 
things,  I  declared  my  back  room  would  be  used  by 
myself  alone  as  a  washmg-room,  and  suffered  it  to 
remain  a  passage-room  the  rest  of  the  time,  feeling 
more  than  grateful  at  the  thought  that  it  was 
exclusively  mine  fi'om  the  point  of  view  of 
ablutions ! 

When  I  enter  it  in  my  nightgown,  after 
cautiously  peeping  to  ascertain  whether  I  can  do  it 
safely,  I  make  a  rush  for  the  door  leading  to  the 
apartment  on  the  right,  and  lock  and  bolt  it ;  then 
I  fly  to  the  door  on  the  left,  and  do  the  same  there, 
deeming  it  fortunate  if  I  do  not  find  myself  face 
to  face  with  the  Mayor  or  with  one  of  our  men, 
though  if  such  a  thing  happened  they  would  be 
equal  to  the  occasion,  and  say  gravely,  "  Bacio  la 
mano'"  (I  kiss  your  hand)  before  retiring.  I  have 
been  caught  once,  so  I  know. 

After   I   have  secured  various  cumbrous   keys, 


28         SICILIAN  WAYS  AND  DAYS 

bars,  and  bolts,  I  go  through  my  ablutions  serenely, 
but  with  a  malicious  slowness,  whilst  an  angry 
crowd  of  impatient  people  accumulate  at  both 
doors. 

Sometimes  it  is  one  of  the  maids,  who,  leaving 
her  milk  on  the  fire — a  straw  fire — has  dawdled 
into  her  mistress's  room  for  no  apparent  reason ; 
now  she  is  anxious  to  dawdle  back  to  her  milk 
and  straw  fire,  and  finding  the  door  closed,  talks 
Sicilian  gibberish  behind  it,  of  which  I  am  perfectly 
unconscious,  as  I  don't  understand  her. 

Sometimes  it  is  the  local  barber — such  a  good 
cello-player — who  must  get  through  to  shave  the 
Mayor,  who  with  characteristic  patience  has  been 
waiting  for  him,  in  his  shirt-sleeves,  all  the  morning. 

Sometimes  it  is  the  Mayor  himself  who  begs  to 
be  allowed  to  pass  through,  on  his  way  to  the  town- 
hall  to  unite  in  lawful  wedlock  two  country  lovers, 
who  are  patiently  waiting  for  him ;  but  I  splash 
away,  and  take  my  time. 

Then,  when  I  find  I  have  no  longer  any  reason 
for  remaining  in  that  room,  I  watch  my  oppor- 
tunity, unlock  one  of  the  two  doors,  and  fly  back 
into  my  own  room,  the  going  and  coming  being 
immediately  resumed,  the  public  gazing  with 
wonder  at  my  tub,  sponges,  etc.,  and  wondering 


MY  ROOM  29 

what  on  earth — or,  rather,  in  the  water  ! — I  can  do 
with  them  ;  to  conclude,  finally,  that  "  Continental " 
women  are  eccentric,  even  if  they  have  their  good 
points.  (In  Sicily,  anyone  who  is  not  a  Sicilian  is 
dubbed  "Continental,"  whether  he  is  a  native  of 
Naples,  Milan,  London,  or  St.  Petersburg.) 

Let  us  go  back  now  to  the  door  from  which  I 
rambled  into  the  washing-passage  room  :  next  to 
this  door,  against  the  wall — everything  here  is 
placed  against  the  walls,  giving  one  the  impression 
that  the  room  has  been  cleared  for  dancing  or  for 
blind-man's  buff — stands  a  good,  useful  table.  I 
keep  upon  it  books  and  magazines,  and  it  is 
covered  also  with  a  serge  cover,  which,  as  a  bit  of 
red  in  a  room  sadly  wanting  in  colour,  does  very 
well. 

Above  it,  in  an  appropriate  rack,  are  three  or 
four  guns  and  rifles,  very  much  in  harmony  with 
the  general  atmosphere,  as  firearms  here  are  ever 
present,  and  certainly  encumbering,  though  for  my 
part  I  cannot  in  this  case  say  that  familiarity 
breeds  contempt,  for  I  feel  a  kind  of  thrill  whenever 
I  dust  them. 

Then  comes  a  door  leading  into  the  room  we  use 
as  a  sitting-room ;  this  also  is  covered  with  red 
serge  curtains.     It  is  an  uninteresting,  official  door, 


30         SICILIAN  WAYS  AND  DAYS 

not  half  as  exciting  as  the  one  that  leads  into  the 
washing-passage  room ! 

The  first  thing  which  strikes  my  eyes  now  is  a 
tall,  hideous  mahogany  chest  of  drawers  with  a 
marble  top.  This  piece  of  furniture  is  not  old 
enough  to  be  worm-eaten  and  antique,  nor  yet 
modern  enough  to  be  handy  and  dainty.  The 
result  is  an  ugly  thing.  I  have  been  told  I  ought 
to  be  thankful  for  it,  and  I  try  to  be. 

When  I  arrived,  I  found  upon  it  the  usual  dis- 
play of  cheap,  gaudy  cofFee-pot  and  cups,  the 
popular  ornament  of  Sicilian  bedrooms,  to  say 
nothing  of  a  precious  posy  of  crudely-coloured 
artificial  flowers  under  a  glass  shade. 

I  had  been  here  but  half  an  hour  when  I  re- 
quested the  mistress  of  the  house  to  adorn  some 
other  room  with  the  posy,  and  to  put  the  coffee- 
service  on  someone  else's  chest  of  drawers  (though 
it  struck  me  as  if  its  most  appropriate  place  would 
be  in  the  dining-room  cupboard) ;  in  their  stead  I 
arranged  various  things,  such  as  a  travelling-clock, 
some  photos  of  the  children,  and  a  large,  glittering, 
yellow  crystal  of  pure  sulphur  from  our  mines. 

Near  it  stands  a  jug  for  drinking-water,  no 
Sicilian  room  being  complete  without  it ;  and  very 
queerly-shaped  these  porous  jugs  are,  with   their 


MY  ROOM  81 

two  handles  and  four  mouths,  and  they  only  cost  a 
penny. 

We  have  now  come  to  an  important  item  in  a 
woman's  room — the  dressing-table.  This  one  is 
really  nice,  of  mahogany,  with  a  drawer,  marble 
top,  and  movable  glass. 

Out  here  they  have  queer  ideas  as  to  how  a 
dressing-table  should  be  arranged,  starting  from 
the  theory  that  there  should  be  nothing  on  it,  which 
simplifies  matters  considerably. 

They  call  them  combing-tables^  thus  strictly 
describing  the  truth  about  them,  for  they  only  use 
them  for  doing  their  hair,  or,  rather,  having  their 
hair  done,  as  every  provincial  lady's  ideal  of  real 
gentility  is  that  of  having  her  hair  elaborately  done 
up  rather  late  in  the  day  by  a  sympathizing  friend  or 
maid,  who  delightfully  rubs  oil  into  it,  and  toilet 
vinegar  next,  until  her  head  smells  for  all  the  world 
like  a  highly-seasoned  salad  ! 

Then  combs — brushes  are  unknown  here — hair- 
pins, etc.,  are  untidily  thrust  out  of  sight  in  the 
drawer,  and  there's  an  end  to  it ! 

As  I  disliked  the  feeling  of  the  cold  marble,  I 
put  upon  my  dressing-table  a  toilet-cover ;  then  I 
arranged  upon  it  the  usual  trinket- box,  pincushion, 
hand-mirror,   hair    and    clothes    brushes,   hairpin- 


82        SICILIAN  WAYS  AND  DAYS 

box,  button-hooks,  scissors,  and  photos  of  the 
children. 

This  simple  arrangement  has  become  a  subject  of 
wonder  for  all  who  have  come  to  see  it  on  the  sly 
when  I  was  out  of  the  way,  and  many  times,  when 
I  have  been  known  to  be  a  few  miles  off,  relations 
or  friends  of  the  mistress  of  the  house  have  begged 
to  be  shown  that  wonderful  display  of  mysterious 
and  elegant  articles,  the  use  of  which  some  fail  to 
see ;  whilst  they  all  invariably  stare  at  the  photos, 
the  custom  here  being  to  bury  all  the  photos  you 
possess  out  of  sight,  in  the  bottom  of  green  wooden 
chests,  with  books,  pictures,  ornaments,  and  other 
things  of  that  kind  which  we,  with  our  eccentric 
notions,  like  to  have  around  and  about  us  wherever 
we  go. 

Sometimes  I  look  at  that  dressing-table  and 
wonder  what  I  should  do  without  it. 

Upon  asking  myself  whether  I  had  rather  do 
without  it,  or  without  my  writing-table,  I  have 
come  to  the  shameful  conclusion  that  I  had  rather 
do  without  my  writing-table,  for  I  could  write,  but 
not  dress,  anywhere. 

That  settles  the  matter,  and  we  now  come  to  a 
chair. 

My  first  mention  of  a  chair  may  lead  you  into  an 


MY  ROOM  33 

error — namely,  that  this  is  the  first  chair  I  have 
met  in  this  journey,  and  you  have  wondered  that 
such  a  well-appointed  room  should  have  such  a 
scarcity  of  chairs ;  so  I  will  at  once  tell  you  that 
there  are  in  my  room  sixteen  chairs,  which  will 
perhaps  give  an  idea  of  its  size,  seeing  that  they  are 
not  in  the  way  ;  only  I  did  not  mention  them,  as  I 
should  then  have  been  obliged  to  speak  continually 
of  chairs. 

I  mentioned  this  one  because  it  is  a  self-asserting 
chair  ;  I  mean  that  I  cannot  help  taking  notice  of 
it,  as  I  always  pass  it  on  my  way  from  the  dressing- 
table  to  the  window,  for,  indeed,  we  have  now  come 
to  the  window. 

We  shall  leave  it  for  the  last,  and  see  what  comes 
next. 

My  working-comer  appears  now ;  it  is  repre- 
sented by  a  gipsy-table  covered  with  red  cloth — 
most  things  are  red  in  my  room,  perhaps  because 
blue  is  my  favourite  colour ;  my  work-basket  is  on 
this  table,  a  low  chair  is  near  it,  and  generally  a 
little  heap  of  anything  that  needs  mending  is  near 
the  work-basket. 

Here  we  come  to  the  end  of  the  third  side,  and 
find  an  iron  cot  with  a  pink  counterpane. 

This  is  where  "  Donna  Letizia,"  as  they  call  her 

3 


34         SICILIAN  WAYS  AND  DAYS 

here,  sleeps  the  placid  little  slumbers  of  her  five 
years ;  but  she  begins  to  be  slightly  larger  than  the 
little  cot — so  much  so  that  we  shall  have  to  pass  her 
on  to  three  green  boards,  upon  which  she  will 
expand  at  her  ease. 

Passing  on  to  the  fourth  side,  we  first  of  all 
come  to  a  bookcase,  the  shelves  of  which  are  well 
filled  with  books. 

When  I  first  placed  this  bookcase  here  and 
arranged  books  in  it  people  thought  me  very  odd, 
as  it  is  the  custom  here  to  keep  books — and  every- 
thing one  possesses,  in  fact — locked  in  hideous 
green  boxes,  which  are  mostly  kept  under  the  beds, 
with  the  result  that  you  never  find  the  book  you 
want  at  the  moment  you  want  it,  and  finish,  of 
course,  by  forgetting  what  books  you  possess. 

Moreover,  the  key  of  the  particular  box  you 
want  to  open  always  happens  to  be  lost. 

This  novel  idea  of  actually  displaying  books  in 
shelves  to  please  the  eye  and  be  easily  reached  for 
perusal  has  made  people  stare,  and  wonder  where  I 
have  learnt  such  unaccountable  ways. 

On  the  top  shelf  are  some  photographs,  and  in 
the  middle  stands  a  marble  group  of  Apollo  holding 
a  lyre  and  sitting  on  a  reclining  lion. 

This  lovely  thing  used  to  live — like  all  pretty 


SICILIAN  CHILD."    (Page  42.) 


DONNA  LETIZIA."    (Page  33.) 


To  face  page  oi. 


36        SICILIAN  WAYS  AND  DAYS 

things  in  this  house,  is  old,  picturesque,  and  .  .  . 
dirty.  It  bears  a  massive  brass  basin,  about 
twenty  inches  wide,  with  two  movable  handles, 
and  contains  a  glowing  heap  of  burning  almond- 
shells. 

No  other  cinders  are  allowed  in  the  braziers,  for 
almond- shells  do  not  produce  carbonic  acid  or 
smoke.  They  burn  quietly,  and  yield  a  pleasant 
warmth.  The  custom  is  to  sit  around  the  braziers 
warming  one's  hands  and  feet,  and  stir  the  burning 
heap  with  a  tiny  little  brass  shovel,  the  size  of  a 
spoon,  which  looks  like  a  toy.  These  braziers  can 
be  carried  about  from  room  to  room,  and  are  very 
handy.  However,  there  is  something  queer  about 
them,  something  heathenish  .  .  .  they  put  me  in 
mind  of  the  sacred  fire  watched  by  the  Vestals.  .  .  . 

We  have  now  come  to  the  writing-table,  which 
is  the  best  piece  of  furniture  in  the  room.  It  is 
completely  shrouded  in  a  dark-red  serge  cloth — or, 
rather,  it  used  to  be  red,  but  the  good  Sicilian  sun, 
which  I  never  shut  out,  has  turned  it  into  a  faded, 
meaningless  hue  with  very  little  red  about  it. 

However,  I  keep  on  remembering  that  it  was 
red  once,  and  that  is  sufficient  for  me. 

The  writing-table  is  also  pleasant,  because  it  has 
several  nice  things  upon  it,  which  are  quite  out  of 


"  MY  FRIEND  LEONE."    (Page  40.) 


'MY  OTHER  FRIENDS  THE  HORSES."    (Page  40.) 


To  face  page  36. 


MY  ROOM  37 

keeping  with  the  atmosphere  here — a  brass  ink- 
stand, a  red  leather  blotter,  a  bee-clock,  a  brass 
tray  for  pens,  a  scissor-case,  etc. 

It  has  also  an  olive-wood  box,  photographs,  and 
a  square  block  of  melted  sulphur  of  a  rich  saffron 
yellow,  which  I  use  as  a  paper-weight. 

Then,  in  a  pretty  jug  bought  at  a  fair — I  greatly 
admire  the  local  pottery — there  is  always  a  bunch 
of  wild-flowers,  many  of  which  would  dehght  a 
botanist,  such  as  orchis  of  various  colours,  violet 
and  yellow  irises,  yellow  crocuses,  the  small  pink 
anemone  with  narrow  petals,  and  the  saffron-flower, 
which  dyes  our  bare  hills  with  its  delicate  violet 
hue. 

This  writing-table  is  a  friend  of  mine.  I  pass  a 
great  deal  of  my  time  at  it ;  and  here  I  think  best 
and  meditate  most,  especially  when  I  turn  round 
and  look  at  Apollo.  .  .  . 

If  it  has  not  bored  you  to  go  all  round  with  me, 
before  inspecting  the  window  and  its  view,  I  will 
tell  you  something  about  the  manner  in  which  they 
dust  a  room  here,  which  is  novel  and  original ;  at 
any  rate,  it  is  the  method  followed  by  the  mistress 
of  the  house  and  her  maids,  and  which  /  have 
not  adopted. 

You  begin  by  ascertaining  whether  the  window 


38         SICILIAN  WAYS  AND  DAYS 

is  shut,  and  if  by  chance  it  happens  to  be  open, 
you  close  it  carefully,  especially  if  it  is  a  fine 
day. 

Then  you  grasp  a  short-handled  whip,  a  harm- 
less kind  of  cat-o'-nine  tails  made  up  of  shreds 
and  strips  of  cloth  and  flannel.  Grasping  this 
instrument,  you  begin  to  beat  to  right  and  left, 
on  the  chairs,  on  the  walls,  on  the  furniture — 
if  there  is  any — on  the  green  boxes — there  are 
always  some — in  the  air,  on  the  floor,  on  one  side 
and  on  the  other,  and  whilst  you  devote  your 
energy  enthusiastically  to  this  domestic  war-dance, 
the  dust,  disturbed  and  wondering,  rises  in  a  pretty 
cloud,  beyond  reach  of  the  avenging  cat-o'-nine- 
tails. When  you  are  tired  of  this  violent  exercise, 
and  feel  convinced  that  the  room  is  properly 
dusted,  you  carefully  close  the  shutters,  leaving 
the  room  wrapped  in  stuffy  darkness,  and  go  to 
beat  somewhere  else. 

I  hasten  to  add  that  this  famous  dust-disturber 
has  never  entered  my  room,  which  I  dust  according 
to  a  slightly  different  method,  and  where  the 
window,  always  wide  open,  would  be  enough  to 
frighten  it  away. 

Exactly  in  front  of  the  writing-table  is  the 
window,  a  poor,  rickety  little  affair,  and   looking 


Oi 


AN  OLD  MAN  DRESSED  IN  A  VIOLET  ROBE.' 
(Page  41.) 


'CHURCH  AT  MONTEDORO."    (Page  41.) 


To  face  page 


MY  ROOM  39 

rather  astonished  at  the  red  serge  curtains  hanging 
on  either  side. 

I  am  afraid  that  the  points  of  this  window,  Uke 
most  things  in  this  excessive  country,  go  from  one 
extreme  to  the  other.  I  will  explain  better :  it  is 
very  difficult  to  open  it ;  it  objects  to  being  opened  ; 
one  can  see  that  it  had  been  used  to  remaining 
closed  for  more  than  sixty  years — it  is  more  prudent. 
But,  on  the  other  hand — and  I  am  quite  willing  to 
forgive  it  this  fault — when  it  is  open,  it  becomes 
almost  impossible  to  close  it  again ;  it  is  imperative 
to  call  for  the  help  of  a  vigorous  man,  of  a  man 
gifted  with  perseverance  and  strength  of  will,  for  it 
resists.  ... 

Another  characteristic  of  it  is  the  mixed  view  it 
offers. 

To  begin  with,  there  is  an  outhouse  just  opposite, 
where  our  straw  is  kept. 

Here  they  burn  straw  for  cooking. 

I  dare  say  that  to  the  well-balanced  mind  of  a 
rational  cook  the  idea  of  roasting,  boiling,  stewing, 
or  frying  with  nothing  but  strati)  will  seem  not 
only  strange,  but  utterly  impossible. 

Still,  it  is  what  the  person  does  who  presides  in 
the  cuhnary  department,  and  I  think  it  very  clever 
of  her. 


40         SICILIAN  WAYS  AND  DAYS 

Perhaps  she  is  specially  gifted  in  that  direction ; 
but,  to  say  the  truth,  she  has  only  one  eye.  Her  first 
assistant  in  the  preparation  of  meals — my  pen 
refuses  to  call  them  dinners — is  her  mother,  by 
name  Annidda,  a  little  old  woman  with  a  hump, 
one  hip  higher — much  higher — than  the  other,  and 
a  wizened  countenance  covered  with  wrinkles  and 
smiles  ;  and  a  third  maid  stutters  painfully. 

But  to  go  back  to  the  straw-  house :  I  wanted  to 
say  that  the  only  point  of  interest  about  it  is  that 
at  the  beginning  of  the  winter  a  good  many  tiles 
fell  in,  leaving  a  large  hole  in  the  roof,  very  con- 
venient for  the  rain  to  soak  the  straw 

As  it  is  against  the  principles  of  this  household 
ever  to  mend  anything,  the  hole  in  the  roof  has  not 
been  repaired  yet,  which  means  burning  wet  straw, 
with  smoke  ad  lib,;  but  I  dare  say  this  is  none  of 
my  business,  and  I  will  continue  describing  what  I 
see  from  my  window. 

I  see  hens  stalking  about,  pecking  at  each  other, 
and  peering  with  a  squint  of  envy  at  our  pigeons 
flying  about  over  the  roofs. 

I  see  my  friend  Leone,  the  watch-dog,  who 
generally  stands  under  my  window,  waiting  for  a 
piece  of  bread. 

I  see  my  other  friends,  the  horses,  leaving  their 


'  *  3Li 


THE  VILLAGE  HOUSES."    (Page  42.) 


"A  LITTLE  FOUXTAIX."    (Page  42.) 


To  face  page  40. 


MY  ROOM  41 

primitive   stables  to  go   to   drink  in  the   village 
drinking-trough. 

I  see  an  old  man  dressed  in  a  violet  robe,  with  a 
pastoral  stick  in  one  hand  and  an  oil-can  in  the 
other,  coming  to  knock  at  our  door  to  beg  for 
some  oil  to  keep  the  lamp  burning  before  St.  Joseph's 
statue  in  the  church. 

I  see  the  poor,  tumble- down  church  itself,  with 
its  one  turret  still  standing,  whilst  the  other  has 
fallen  down,  looking  for  all  the  world  like  a  dog 
with  one  ear  cut  off,  wide  cracks  in  the  walls,  and 
the  cross  bent  in  a  tipsy  fashion,  because  the  ground 
underneath  is  honeycombed  by  the  adjoining 
sulphur-mines ;  and  some  day  a  frightful  accident 
will  happen,  for  many  of  the  villagers,  the  women 
especially,  disobey  the  Mayor's  orders  not  to  crowd 
the  church. 

I  see,  on  Sunday  mornings,  a  cluster  of  the 
careful  ones,  those  who  are  afraid  to  go  in,  assist- 
ing at  Mass  from  the  door,  the  women  kneeling  on 
the  ground,  their  heads  hidden  under  their  black 
mantelline,  the  men  standing,  with  heads  reverently 
bowed  and  uncovered,  even  under  the  blazing  rays 
of  the  midday  sun. 

What  if  a  stray  pig  or  two  saunter  leisurely  up, 
and,  mixing  with  the  devout  worshippers,  assist  at 


42         SICILIAN  WAYS  AND  DAYS 

a  bit  of  Mass  on  their  own  account?  Nobody 
notices  them,  so  why  should  we  ?  On  the  other 
side  I  see  many  of  the  village  houses,  poor  and 
rustic  in  appearance,  white  and  low,  never  more 
than  one  story  in  height,  clearly  cut  against  the 
blue  sky,  in  Oriental  fashion. 

I  see  a  little  fountain  where  picturesque  figures 
of  girls  and  women,  draped  in  their  black  cloth 
head-gear,  glide  by  all  day  to  fetch  water  in  those 
tall  lovely  Greek  pitchers,  which  are  carried 
majestically  on  the  head,  in  a  horizontal  position 
when  empty,  and  standing  up  when  full,  the  black 
cape  always  hanging  round  and  partly  hiding  the 
expressive,  though  invariably  sad,  face. 

I  often  ask  myself.  Why  should  everything  have 
a  sad  conclusion  here  ?  Why  should  the  general 
impression  be  one  of  pain,  sadness  and  suffering, 
from  the  melancholy  melodies  in  a  minor  key 
chanted  in  the  solitary  hills  by  the  hard-working 
labourer  to  the  fatalistic  smile  of  the  very 
children  ? 

Perhaps  it  is  the  unconscious  and  hereditary 
manifestation  of  a  people  who  have  suffered  much 
in  bygone  centuries,  and,  to  say  the  truth,  are 
suffering  still. 

Or  is  it,  perhaps,  the  intensity  of  life  here  which 


,*  '.  • 


"IN  A  HORIZONTAL  POSITION  WHEN  EMPTY."    (Page  42.) 


STANDING  UP  WHEN  FULL."    (Page  42.) 


To  face  page  45 


MY  ROOM  43 

produces  an  instinctive  sense  of  pain  and  weariness 
in  all  things  ? 

When  I  am  not  doing  anything,  as  now,  for 
instance,  I  gaze  before  me  into  space,  and  see  the 
infinite  depth  of  our  blue  sky,  rarely  dimmed  by  a 
cloud  :  it  is  too  blue  and  too  bright  to  be  looked  at 
long. 

Then,  if  I  get  up  and  look  out,  on  one  side,  beyond 
the  poor  houses  and  shattered  church,  I  see  outside 
the  village  the  bare  hill  with  the  dull,  grey  stone 
terrace  they  call  the  Calvary  clearly  drawn  against 
the  pure  sky,  with  its  large  cross  of  black  wood, 
which,  thus  perpetually  held  up  before  our  eyes, 
reminds  us  of  Death  and  of  our  hopes  of  eternity, 
such  as  we  fashion  them  according  to  our  own 
personal  feelings  and  creeds. 

And  finally,  looking  farther  still,  I  see  a  part  of 
that  noble  expanse  of  plains  and  undulating  hills, 
now  green  with  thick-growing  corn,  where  I  have 
often  roamed,  finding  deep  pleasure  in  the  silent 
solitude  of  those  wild  regions,  and  in  the  contempla- 
tion of  the  grand  outline  of  distant  mountains,  for 
there,  away  from  the  voices  of  men,  the  voice  of 
Nature  is  heard  at  its  best  I 


THE  MADONNA'S  ARRIVAL 

The  wholesome  dulness  of  our  life  here  was 
brightened  to-day  by  the  arrival  of  a  new  Madonna, 
to  be  placed  in  the  church  on  a  special  altar 
dedicated  to  the  Madonna  Addolorata  (Our  Lady 
of  Sorrows).  A  collection,  it  seems,  was  made  in  the 
village  some  months  ago  to  get  this  beautiful  new 
one,  of  painted  wood,  from  Girgenti,  where  it  was 
made  by  a  special  artist. 

After  a  wearying  period  of  anxious  expectation, 
during  which  time  a  silk  robe  was  embroidered  in 
gold  for  her  by  some  of  her  devotees,  her  arrival 
was  finally  announced,  and  one  of  the  priests,  who 
bears  the  poetic  name  of  Padre  Fiorello,  went  to 
Girgenti  to  fetch  her. 

Her  journey  from  Girgenti  to  Serradifalco  was 
humbly  effected  in  the  luggage-van,  her  florid 
complexion  being  protected  from  profane  glances 
by  a  vulgar  packing-case  ;  but  at  Serradifalco  she 
appeared  in  all  her  glory,  for  they  unveiled  her  and 

44 


THE  MADONNA'S  ARRIVAL         45 

placed  her  in  triumph  on  one  of  the  usual  carts, 
painted  all  over  with  historical  designs,  and  drawn 
by  a  grey  mule  cheerful  with  many  red-braid 
ornaments  and  tassels,  breastpiece  studded  with 
shiny  bits  of  glass,  and  tall,  bell-topped  pyramids  of 
light  red  feathers  on  the  head  and  back. 

The  priest  sat  in  the  cart  with  the  Madonna  to 
keep  her  from  falling,  and  they  began  their  journey 
towards  Montedoro,  where,  in  the  meantime, 
preparations  for  a  fitting  reception  of  the  Addolorata 
were  made  by  beating  wildly  two  big  drums  in 
front  of  the  church,  firing  off  sky-rockets — a  rather 
tame  affair  in  the  day-time — and  ringing  the  church- 
bells  quickly  and  anyhow,  in  sign  of  joy  and  excite- 
ment. 

When  the  Madonna  was  about  a  mile  from 
the  village,  a  crowd  of  people  went  to  meet  her 
bearing  a  large  yellow  canopy  supported  on  four 
posts ;  this  was  carried  over  her  as  she  sallied 
along  on  her  cart,  and  it  came  in  most  useful,  for 
rain  began  to  fall,  and  it  prevented  her  from 
getting  wet. 

The  procession  crossed  the  village  in  this  fashion, 
the  priest  in  front — he  had  alighted  from  the  cart 
— then  the  Addolorata  under  her  canopy,  bearing 
unconcernedly  the   bumps  of  the  road,  and   the 


46         SICILIAN  WAYS  AND  DAYS 

enthusiastic  crowd  behind,  sky-rockets,  drums  and 
bells  going  on  wildly  all  the  time. 

When  she  arrived  in  front  of  the  church,  where 
a  triumphant  entry  was  to  crown  her  journey,  the 
rain  came  down  in  such  torrents  that  she  was 
seized  by  eight  vigorous  arms  and  made  to  rush 
into  the  church  with  indecorous  haste,  the  canopy 
tr5n[ng  to  keep  up  with  nothing  under  it,  and  the 
ceremony  was  over. 

It  was  then  that  I  was  made  acquainted  with  a 
singular  feature  of  Sicilian  customs.  When  the 
crowd  in  front  of  the  church  broke  up  in  the 
pelting  rain,  I  noticed  that  only  the  men  carried 
umbrellas,  the  women  having  nothing  but  their 
black  cloth  mantellina^  or  cape,  over  the  head  to 
protect  them  from  the  rain  ;  and  when  I  remarked 
upon  this  to  Caluzza,  the  head-maid,  she  stared 
wonderingly  at  me,  and  said:  "Doesn't  Vossia* 
know  that  it  would  be  improper  for  women  to  use 
umbrellas  ?"  and  she  left  me,  wondering  and  medi- 
tating over  this  unexpected  and  curious  principle 
of  Sicilian  propriety  1 

*  Sicilian  abbreviation  of  Vostra  Eccellenza  (Your  Excellence  ) 


DRAWN  BY  A  GREY  MULE."    (Page  45.) 


'OX  HER  WAY  TO  CHURCH."    (Page  49.) 


To  face  page  46. 


MARRIAGE  CUSTOMS 

One  of  the  many  things  that  I  can't  get  over  here 
is  the  youth  of  the  brides,  whenever  I  watch  some 
humble  marriage  procession  pass  by  as  I  sit  in 
front  of  our  casino,^  my  usual  post  of  observation  ; 
but  the  campiere  Alessandro,  my  general  informer 
of  local  customs,  tells  me  that  formerly,  before  the 
new  Code  of  laws  came  in,  which  appoints  fifteen 
years  as  the  marriageable  age  for  a  girl,  it  was  the 
custom  to  marry  them  at  thirteen ! 

Now  that  fifteen  is  the  limit,  one  continually 
hears  of  girls  being  married — in  the  lower  classes, 
of  course — the  moment  they  have  reached  the 
legal  age. 

A  great  many  reasons  can  be  given  for  this, 
which  are  all  more  forcible  than  the  usual  argu- 
ment of  physical  precocity  in  a  Southern  country. 

Owing  to  the  many  prejudices  of  this  place,  a 

*  This  is  the  name  given  to  a  sitting-room  on  the  ground- 
floor,  the  French  windows  of  which  open  on  to  the  piazza. 

47 


\ 


48         SICILIAN  WAYS  AND  DAYS 

girl,  from  her  tenderest  age,  has  no  contact  what- 
ever with  boys  and  men.  She  is  not  allowed  to 
play  with  little  boys  when  she  is  a  child,  nor  to 
look  a  man  in  the  face  when  she  grows  up.  None 
come  into  her  house — her  male  relatives  see  their 
friends  at  the  tavern  or  at  the  casino  * — she  is 
never  taken  to  any  of  the  humble  christening  or 
marriage  entertainments  which  take  place  amongst 
her  friends ;  she  is  not  allowed  to  go  for  a  day's 
work  to  a  sempstress  or  laundress,  and  thus  con- 
tribute a  little  to  the  maintenance  of  the  family ; 
the  only  diversion  allowed  her  is  fetching  water 
from  the  fountain — if  not  too  far  from  her  house — 
and  the  Sunday  Mass,  where  she  is  taken  by  her 
mother,  with  her  face  well  hidden  under  the  black 
mantellina,  and  where  she  sits  far  away  from  the 
men,  in  the  side  appointed  for  the  use  of  her  sex. 
It  is  not  to  be  wondered  at,  therefore,  if,  the 
moment  she  is  told  that  young  Turiddu's  mother 
has  asked  to  have  her  as  a  wife  for  her  son,  she 
immediately  and  dutifully  agrees  to  marry  him, 
sometimes  after  having  scarcely  seen  him ! 

Very  frequently  the  marriage  is  arranged  with 

♦  In  the  public  casino  of  the  village  the  men  collect  at  all 
times,  but  especially  in  the  evening,  to  meet  their  friends  chat, 
and  play  cards.     See  "  The  Feast  of  St.  Joseph." 


FKlviilNG  WATER.     (Page  48.) 


GOING  TO  THE  FOUNTAIN.    (Page  48.) 


To  face  page  48. 


MARRIAGE  CUSTOMS  49 

a  young  man  of  the  village  who  emigrated  to 
America  some  years  before ;  he  comes  back  for 
the  wedding,  or  the  girl  is  taken  out  to  him, 
escorted  by  friends  or  relations. 

They  tell  me,  however,  that  now  girls  have 
made  themselves  so  independent  that  at  times  a 
girl  is  known  to  have  actually  fallen  in  love  before- 
hand with  the  young  man  who  will  ask  for  her 
hand,  after  having  just  glanced  at  him  with  one 
eye,  through  a  chink  in  the  mantellina,  on  her  way 
to  church,  when  her  mother  was  looking  the  other 
way,  and  that  often,  from  her  door,  she  has  by 
signs  given  him  to  understand  that  his  suit  will  be 
gratefully  accepted.  And  this  is  what  they  call 
becoming  independent ! 

The  consequence  is  that  now,  very  often,  two 
young  people  are  tacitly  engaged  to  each  other 
after  simply  having  had  a  glimpse  of  each  other  in 
this  distant  and  summary  fashion,  and  if  the  young 
man  is  not  in  a  position  to  marry,  or  has  to  go  off 
to  be  a  soldier  for  three  years,  they  may  remain 
with  this  mutual  understanding  all  that  time, 
without  the  facilities  enjoyed  by  engaged  couples 
in  more  civilized  quarters,  who  have  the  comfort 
of  frequent  official,  or  stolen,  interviews,  or  who 
can  write  to  each  other. 

4 


50         SICILIAN  WAYS  AND  DAYS 

A  girl  here,  of  course,  cannot  write — I  speak  of 
the  lower  classes  always — and,  indeed,  if  she  were 
acquainted  with  the  uncanny  art  of  writing,  she 
would  be  looked  upon  with  suspicion  by  all  her 
people. 

Then,  again,  the  houses  of  poor  people  consist 
mostly  of  one  room,  where  all  the  family  sleep, 
regardless  of  age  and  sex,  so  it  is  natural  that 
the  girl's  parents  should  be  in  a  hurry  to  get  rid 
of  her,  and  their  poverty  is  such  that  one  mouth 
less  to  feed  is  a  great  boon  to  the  family,  always  a 
numerous  one. 

The  marriage  portion  of  a  girl  in  that  class  is 
always  a  little  house,  as,  every  time  a  father  divides 
his  property  amongst  his  children,  he  leaves  the 
house  or  houses  to  his  daughters,  the  land — if  he 
has  any — to  his  sons. 

Besides  the  house,  the  girl  is  expected  to  bring 
all  that  will  be  needed  in  her  little  household,  like 
the  sheets  and  mattresses  for  the  bed,  her  own  linen, 
and  the  kitchen  utensils — alarmingly  few  of  them, 
very  often  only  the  big  pot  to  boil  the  maccheroni, 
and  a  frying-pan. 

If  she  is  at  all  well  off,  she  brings  the  house-linen 
and  her  clothes  in  a  large  dowry-chest  of  carved 
or  painted  wood,  according  to  her  means.     These 


MARRIAGE  CUSTOMS  51 

old  chests  are  very  artistic,  and,  when  genuinely 
old,  very  much  sought  after  by  antiquarians. 

The  bride  of  the  new  generation,  however,  is 
now  provided  with  a  cheap,  gaudy  chest  of  drawers 
instead,  as  ugly  as  they  make  them,  with  a 
marble  top. 

If  the  young  man  is  a  peasant,  he  is  supposed 
to  possess  already  a  mule  or  a  donkey,  the  tools — 
very  few  and  elementary! — for  working  in  the 
fields,  also  his  own  personal  linen,  and  the  deal 
boards  and  iron  trestles  for  the  bed. 

He  is  also  expected  to  bring  all  the  earthenware 
vessels  or  pottery  needed  in  the  house,  such  as  the 
water-jars  and  oil-bottles,  the  plates,  and  the  gaudy 
cofFee-service,  which  is  spread  all  over  the  marble 
top  of  their  tall  chest  of  drawers. 

The  formality  of  the  engagement  is  gone  through 
in  this  fashion :  a  few  relations  gather  in  the  girl's 
house ;  the  young  man  comes  in  gravely  with  his 
family,  and  offers  to  his  bashful  fiancee — it  is  the 
first  time  she  sees  him  so  close — a  prettily  coloured 
silk  handkerchief,  a  smart  apron,  perhaps  a  hand- 
some silk  scarf,  a  pocket-knife — it  consists  of  one 
blade  with  a  murderous  point  —  a  needle-case  of 
wood,  and  a  cheap  ring.  Sometimes  the  girl  gives 
him  also  in  exchange  a  pocket-knife. 

4—2 


52        SICIIJAN  WAYS  AND  DAYS 

After  this  he  is  allowed  to  bring  her  a  rose  every 
day,  and  to  sit  near  her  as  she  stitches  away  under 
the  strict  supervision  of  her  mother.  On  summer 
evenings,  instead  of  sitting  indoors,  they  may 
saunter  out,  all  together,  on  the  road  outside  the 
village. 

She  is  now  very  busy  making  him  a  shirt  with 
elaborate  little  tucks  in  front  and  a  waistcoat  for 
him  to  wear  on  their  wedding-day.  She  has  no 
trousseau  to  make,  as,  when  she  was  ten  years  old, 
her  mother  began  to  make  her  work  at  it,  and  it 
is  all  ready  and  laid  out  in  the  dowry-chest,  if 
she  has  one.  The  trousseau  consists  of  chemises 
and  petticoats,  sheets,  pillow-cases,  and  towels. 

She  now  receives  from  her  fiance  a  new  dress 
and  a  silk  handkerchief,  and  wears  them  a  fortnight 
before  her  wedding,  when,  under  cover  of  the  even- 
ing shades,  she,  with  all  the  women  of  her  family, 
well  muffled  in  their  mantelline  or  shawls,  go  to 
the  Vicar's  house,  at  the  door  of  which  her  fiance, 
with  his  relatives,  are  waiting  for  her. 

They  go  upstairs  and  give  notice  to  the  parish 
priest  to  publish  their  banns  in  the  church.  The 
same  ceremony  is  gone  through,  in  the  day-time,  at 
the  town-hall,  so  that  their  names  may  be  placed  in 
the  public  list  of  forthcoming  marriages. 


POTTERY  NEEDED  IX  THE  HOUSE."    (Page  51.) 


"THE  BRIDE  ESCORTED  BY  HER  WOMENFOLK."    (Page  53.) 


To  face  page  52. 


«    »■#>    e..r 


MARRIAGE  CUSTOMS  53 

Nothing  now  remains  but  for  the  girl's  parents 
to  prepare  the  house — "  room  "  would  be  a  more 
appropriate  word — for  the  bride  and  bridegroom. 

The  bridegroom's  wedding-gift  to  the  bride  is 
a  smart  dress,  even  in  the  poorest  cases,  of  silk, 
always  of  a  delicate  colour,  and  a  rich,  soft-coloured 
silk  shawl,  both  to  be  worn  on  her  wedding-day. 

The  day  before  their  future  dwelling  is  prepared, 
their  things  are  all  laid  out  in  it  and  made  the  most 
of;  the  bed  is  made  up,  and  all  the  neighbours 
flock  in  to  gaze  at  it,  criticize  the  quality  of  the 
linen,  and  admire  the  hand- made  lace  on  the  pillow- 
cases, comparing  them  with  the  lace  and  linen  of 
some  previous  bride. 

On  the  morning  of  the  eventful  day,  the  bride, 
finally  decked  out  in  her  smart  dress,  and  draped 
from  head  to  foot  in  the  shiny  folds  of  her  silk 
shawl,  goes  to  the  town-hall,  escorted  by  all  her 
women-folk,  her  mother  and  nearest  female  relation 
walking  on  either  side,  and  all  the  others  behind. 
They  make  such  a  pretty,  silent  picture,  as  they 
pass  like  this,  the  bride's  silken  shawl  glimmering 
in  the  sunshine,  all  the  women  about  her  hidden  in 
their  own  smart  shawls  or  niantelline  (according  to 
their  social  position). 

After  them  comes  the  bridegroom  with  his  family 


54        SICILIAN  WAYS  AND  DAYS 

and  friends — all  men,  of  course,  as  his  mother  and 
sisters  go  with  the  bride.  He  is  dressed  decorously 
in  black,  with  the  smart  shirt  and  waistcoat  his 
fiancee  made  him.  He  and  his  people  thus  following 
solemnly  on  the  steps  of  the  bride  always  give  me 
the  impression  of  walking  in  a  funeral  procession. 

At  the  town-hall  the  Mayor  or  a  member  of 
the  Municipal  Council  reads  out  to  them  the 
articles  of  the  law  concerning  the  respective  duties 
of  man  and  wife.  After  each  has  said  "  Yes  "  to 
the  appointed  questions,  he  enters  their  names  in 
the  register. 

They  now  emerge  from  the  town-hall  and  walk 
to  the  church,  always  in  the  same  order,  as  the 
bride  and  bridegroom  are  not  to  be  together  a 
moment  until  it  is  all  over. 

After  the  nuptial  benediction,  during  which  the 
ring  also  is  blessed — not  the  usual  wedding-ring, 
but  a  cheap,  showy  article,  sometimes  with  a  sham 
stone  in  it — the  whole  party  walk  back,  always  in 
the  same  order,  to  the  bride's  home,  where  an 
attempt  at  refreshments  is  made  under  the  shape 
of  stale  bonbons  and  biscuits,  and  little  glasses  of  a 
sweet,  sticky  liquor  called  rosolio,  of  a  yellowish 
or  greenish  colour,  generally  made  at  home  with 
certain  herbs,  sugar,  and  spirit  of  wine. 


MARRIAGE  CUSTOMS  55 

When  his  means  allow  him  such  extravagance, 
the  bride's  father  offers  Marsala  wine  to  the  com- 
pany, but  the  sickly  rosolio  is  inevitable.  I  have 
often  had  to  taste  it,  and  been  most  unwell  after  it! 

As  soon  as  this  part  of  the  day's  programme  is 
over,  they  all  escort  the  bride  and  bridegroom  to 
their  house  and  take  leave  of  them,  with  many 
words  of  encouragement  to  the  little  bride. 

Next  morning  it  is  the  duty  of  the  bridegroom's 
mother  to  give  the  buona  levata,  or  morning 
greeting,  to  the  newly- wedded  couple  by  sending 
them  some  hot  coffee,  or,  better  still,  when  she  can 
afford  it,  two  cups  of  steaming  chocolate  and  a  few 
ciambelle  (local  biscuits). 

She  is  also  expected  to  send  them  in  their  dinner 
at  midday  for  a  week,  since  until  eight  days  have 
passed  the  bride  is  not  allowed  to  put  a  foot  out  of 
the  house  ;  but  in  most  cases  now  this  dinner,  which 
consists  of  maccheroni,  meat,  and  wine,  or,  if  they 
are  very  poor,  of  macckeroni^  greens,  cheese,  and 
wine  only,  is  sent  in  for  two  or,  at  the  most,  three 
days. 

«  «  »  «  « 

I  was  admiring  one  day  one  of  these  marriage 
processions  as  it  passed  in  front  of  our  casino 
when  crossing  the  piazza,  the  bride,  slight  and  pale, 


56         SICILIAN  WAYS  AND  DAYS 

encircled  in  her  glossy  silken  shawl,  the  childish 
face  and  expression  of  a  little  maid  of  fifteen. 

My  friend  Alessandro  was  near  me,  and  I  turned 
rather  indignantly  to  him,  and  remonstrated  against 
the  barbarous  custom  of  marrying  off  in  this  blind 
fashion  such  young  things,  before  their  bodies  and 
characters  were  ripe  for  the  duties  of  marriage. 

I  am  sorry  to  say  his  answer  rather  lacked  his 
usual  fine  tact : 

''  Surely  this  is  the  proper  age  for  a  girl  to  marry ; 
a  woman  is  old  at  twenty  !" 


THE  FEAST  OF  ST.  JOSEPH 

'*  Tell  me,  Alessandro,  how  is  it  that  your  festas 
of  patron  saints  occur  only  from  the  beginning  of 
spring  to  the  end  of  summer  ?" 

It  was  a  fine  morning  in  the  first  fortnight  of 
April,  and  as  I  was  going  out  for  a  ride  with  him — 
he  often  escorts  us,  though  not  actually  in  our 
service,  being  a  municipal  rural  guard — I  saw  they 
were  hammering  away  at  a  stand  for  the  band 
built  in  the  middle  of  the  piazza,  and  getting  ready 
the  wooden  scaffolding  for  a  grand  display  of  fire- 
works opposite  the  church — all  this  in  preparation 
for  the  Feast  of  St.  Joseph — and  I  could  notice  that 
a  general  excitement  pervaded  the  village. 

"  We  qan't  enjoy  a  festa,"  he  answered,  "  unless 
it  all  takes  place  in  the  open  air;  and,  in  fact, 
St.  Joseph's  Feast,  which  rightfully  falls  on 
March  19,  is  always  put  off  till  April,  because 
March  is  a  mad  month  ;  and  St.  Joseph  doesn't 
mind.     The  principal  attraction  of  the  feast  is  the 

57 


58        SICILIAN  WAYS  AND  DAYS 

band,  or,  when  we  can  afford  it,  the  two  bands, 
going  round  the  village  and  playing  most  of  the 
day.  They  could  not  do  it  in  cold  or  rainy  weather 
in  winter :  it  would  spoil  their  beautiful  uniforms 
and  feathers.  Then  most  large  villages  have  fairs 
on  festa  days,  principally  of  cattle,  donkeys,  mules, 
and  horses ;  and  that  also  requires  warm  weather, 
as  all  the  animals  and  the  men  with  them  have  to 
pass  the  night  outside.  From  neighbouring  villages 
— which  in  our  instance  would  be  Serradifalco, 
Racalmuto,  Canicatti,  and  others — it  is  the  custom 
to  come  and  spend  the  day  here  when  we  have 
a  festa,  and  we  all  go  to  their  festas  when  they 
have  one,  a  thing  which  would  be  impracticable 
in  winter ;  as  also  the  procession  with  the  saint's 
figure,  which  takes  place  at  sunset,  and  in  which 
all  the  women  of  the  place  appear,  since  this  is  the 
only  part  of  the  festa's  programme  in  which  they 
take  any  part ;  and  they  wouldn't  come  out  on 
a  cold  day,  as  Voscenza  (Your  Excellence)  has 
done  all  the  winter." 

(The  people  here  are  beginning  to  get  accustomed 
to  the  strange  fact  that  nothing,  except  a  downpour 
of  rain,  will  keep  us  from  going  out  daily. ) 

As  we  rode  slowly  along  the  crest  of  the  quiet, 
sunlit    hills   studded   with   wild -flowers,  I   made 


'THE  •  PROCURATORE  '  OF  THE  FESTA."    (Page  59.) 


A  LITTLE  MAID  OF  FIFTEEN."    (Page  56.) 


To  face  page  58. 


THE  FEAST  OF  ST.  JOSEPH         59 

Alessandro  explain  all  about  the  special  organization 
of  these  festas.  The  local  authorities,  it  seems, 
have  nothing  to  do  with  them  ;  they  are  essentially 
the  result  of  the  people's  efforts  and  offerings.  It 
is  sometimes  one  man  in  the  place,  sometimes 
another,  generally  a  person  of  some  importance  in 
the  village,  who  is  placed  at  the  head  of  a  small 
committee  of  four  or  five  comrades,  and  becomes 
the  procuratore  (provider)  of  the  festa,  as  he  is 
trusted  with  the  funds,  and  will  have  to  organize  it 
all.  During  the  year  he  has  collected  corn  on  the 
threshing-floors  through  the  country,  and  money 
as  well,  and  has  got  together  a  sum  varying  from 
five  to  eight  hundred  francs,  two  hundred  of  which 
will  be  paid  to  the  band  of  a  neighbouring  town 
for  coming  over  here  for  three  days  to  play  con- 
tinually, in  turns  with  our  own  band,  which  gets 
also  a  good  salary. 

"  But  why  three  days  ?"  I  ask. 

"Because,  although  the  real  feast  is  on  the 
Sunday,  all  Saturday,  the  vigil,  has  to  be  a  feast 
too,  and  in  order  to  begin  early  on  Saturday  morn- 
ing, the  band  from  another  place  always  arrives  on 
the  Friday  afternoon,  and  begins  to  play  on  that 
day.  The  rest  of  the  money  pays  for  a  grand  set 
of  fireworks,  balloons,  and  other  pleasures,  to  say 


60         SICILIAN  WAYS  AND  DAYS 

nothing  of  special  functions  in  the  church,  with 
an  unusual  display  of  tapers,  and  the  inside 
lined  with  gorgeous  red  draperies  and  hung  with 
gilt-paper  decorations  of  dazzling  effect :  this  is 
done  by  a  man  whose  trade  it  is  to  go  from  village 
to  village  at  festa  times,  to  hang  these  draperies 
(which  belong  to  him)  in  the  church.  He  gets 
thirty  francs  for  this.  Then  there  are  the  drum- 
beaters  to  be  paid,  and  the  priests — they  always  get 
more  than  their  due." 

Alessandro,  being  an  esprit  fort,  and  well  read — 
he  knows  Dante,  Ariosto,  and  Tasso  by  heart — 
showed  his  superior  spirit  by  this  sweeping  accusa- 
tion against  the  priests,  with  which  he  ended  his 
speech. 

St.  Joseph  is  a  favourite  saint  with  the  miners, 
and  as  ours  is  a  mining  district,  I  have  had  oppor- 
tunities of  seeing  their  devotion  to  this  saint  by  the 
way  in  which,  on  their  pay-day,  they  each  drop  one 
or  two  silver  pieces  taken  from  their  hardly-earned 
wages  into  the  slit  of  the  little  earthenware 
amphora  held  out  to  each  of  them  by  the  pro- 
curatore  of  the  festa,  who  is  always  in  attendance 
for  that  purpose. 

He,  of  course,  displays  all  his  activity  in  order 
that  the  feast  he  organizes  should  turn  out  more 


THE  FEAST  OF  ST.  JOSEPH         61 

successful,  and  by  the  whole  population  declared 
more  brilliant  than  when  it  has  been  organized  by 
another.  The  feeling  of  self-importance  is  very 
strong  here  ;  add  to  this  the  intrigues  and  the  open 
or  covert  struggle  between  the  two  political  sides 
which  divide  every  town  or  village  into  two  fierce 
factions  cordially  hating  each  other,  and  it  will  be 
easily  understood  how  many  passions  and  suscepti- 
bilities come  to  the  fore  in  the  preparation  of  these 
festas. 

This  year  the  procuratore  of  the  festa  belonged 
to  our  "side." 

I  had  just  come  back  from  our  ride,  when  a  good 
band  of  about  thirty  musicians,  dressed  in  grey 
cloth  with  white  trimmings,  arrived  from  the 
neighbouring  village  of  Canicatti. 

They  all  collected  outside  the  village,  and  then 
entered  it,  walking  briskly  in  rows  of  four,  playing 
a  bright  march  ;  the  'procuratore  walked  in  front, 
sending  up  sky-rockets,  the  explosion  of  which 
was  followed  by  a  shower  of  stars.  All  the  little 
boys  of  the  place  surrounded  him,  dancing  and 
shouting  for  joy.  They  went  and  stopped  in 
front  of  the  church,  the  band  playing  a  piece 
there  ;  then  they  came  and  played  in  front  of  our 
house.     This  was  an  act  of  deference  to  the  local 


62         SICILIAN  WAYS  AND  DAYS 

authority  in  the  person  of  our  cousin,  who  is  Mayor 
of  the  place.  Then,  night  having  set  in,  all  was 
quiet  once  more.  But  this — Alessandro  told  me — 
was  only  the  beginning. 

Next  morning  (Saturday),  according  to  a  most 
barbarous  custom,  the  band  began  to  play  at  4.30, 
thus  awaking  the  whole  village  with  warlike 
marches.  As  a  compliment  to  our  family,  they 
began  at  our  house,  and  with  refined  cruelty  began 
their  piece  loudly,  after  silently  gathering  under  our 
windows.  They  left  us  when  there  could  be  no 
possible  doubt  as  to  their  having  awakened  us. 

After  they  went  on  their  way  to  go  the  round  of 
the  village,  I  thought  their  distant  harmonies  most 
charming,  and  was  beginning  to  lose  all  conscious- 
ness— to  speak  plainly,  I  was  about  to  go  to  sleep 
again — when  the  terrible  drums''  followed  on  the 
band's  footsteps  with  thunder-roll  beats  ;  it  sounded 
most  promising,  as  we  were  only  at  the  vigil  as 
yet. 

From  that  moment  until  midday,  music, 
drums,  and  bells  were  heard  continually ;  then  at 
12  o'clock  the  band  escorted  St.  Joseph's  staff  to 
the  church. 

*  In  Sicily  large  drums  are  beaten  in  front  of  the  church  and 
round  the  village  on  feast-days  in  all  small  towns  and  villages. 


"THE  TERRIBLE  DRUMS."     C Page  02.) 


THE  BAND  BEGAN  TO  PLAY."    (Page  62.) 


To  face  page  62. 


THE  FEAST  OF  ST.  JOSEPH         63 

This  requires  some  explanation.  There  is  in  the 
church  here  a  monumental  statue  of  St.  Joseph, 
holding  the  hand  of  a  small  Child  Jesus,  dressed  in 
sky-blue.  St.  Joseph  holds  in  the  other  hand  a  lovely 
staff  adorned  with  a  silver  lily  and  bright-coloured 
ribbons.  The  silver  lily  was  sent  by  some  Monte- 
doro  emigrants  now  working  in  the  mines  at 
Pittston. 

It  frequently  happens  that  when  an  invalid 
wishes  to  have  the  staff  brought  to  his  bedside — 
for,  amongst  other  virtues,  it  possesses  the  power  ot 
healing  —  this  can  be  done  by  paying  a  sum  of 
money  to  the  guild  or  brotherhood  who  owns 
St.  Joseph  ;  but  at  the  solemn  time  of  his  feast  the 
miraculous  staff  must  return  to  his  owner,  so  a 
priest,  escorted  by  the  band,  goes  in  state  to  the 
house  of  the  invalid  who  had  the  loan  of  the  staff 
at  the  time,  to  fetch  it. 

I  saw  them  cross  the  piazza,  the  priest  in  front, 
holding  up  the  staff,  the  band  playing  a  NeapoHtan 
song  which  is  very  popular  this  year,  and  a  multi- 
tude of  children  dancing  round.  It  was  very 
cheerful. 

Towards  9  in  the  evening  the  musicians  all 
went  up  on  the  wooden  stand  in  the  middle  of  the 
piazza,  which  was  now  brightly  lighted  up   with 


64         SICILIAN  WAYS  AND  DAYS 

coloured  paper  lanterns  and  acetylene  lamps,  and 
surrounded  now  by  a  compact  crowd,  anxious  to 
hear  the  pieces  played  in  turns  by  the  two  bands — 
ours  and  the  Canicatti  one — and  pronounce  an 
opinion  on  their  various  merits. 

The  Canicatti's  bandmaster,  who  had  not  appeared 
yet,  took  his  place  in  the  middle,  and  the  concert 
began — an  almost  classical  concert,  the  programme 
of  which  he  had  sent  us. 

We  sat  with  some  friends,  in  front  of  our  casino. 
They  call  casino  here  a  large  room  with  several 
doors  opening  out  upon  the  public  square,  and 
containing  many  chairs,  a  table  or  two,  and  some 
suspended  lamps. 

Every  "  side  "  or  party  in  a  village  has  one,  very 
useful  for  local  politics.  We  have  two,  one  very 
large,  meant  for  our  "friends" — the  electors  who 
belong  to  our  side.  They  meet  in  it  to  talk 
after  their  work  in  the  mines,  the  fields,  or  the 
workshop  is  over,  and  in  the  evening  they  find 
it  lighted,  and  play  cards.  Only  newspapers 
would  be  wanted  to  make  it  perfect ;  but,  I  am 
told  we  are  not  civilized  enough  for  that  yet. 
Still,  in  a  country  where  every  man's  house  con- 
sists of  one  room,  where  all  the  family  huddle 
together,  it  is  quite  natural  he  should  need  some 


THE  FEAST  OF  ST.  JOSEPH         65 

place  where  he  can  sit  and  pass  the  time  with  his 
friends. 

But  to  return  to  our  own  casino.  When  it  is  fine, 
as  it  generally  is  on  St.  Joseph's  evening,  we  put 
our  chairs  outside  in  front  of  it,  and  enjoy  the  fresh 
night  air  in  full  sight  of  the  crowd,  who  gaze  at  us 
from  a  respectful  distance ;  whilst  we,  of  course, 
falling  into  the  ways  of  the  place,  comment  on 
everything  that  goes  on  in  the  other  "  side's  "  casino, 
which  stands  at  the  other  end  of  the  piazza.  It  is 
very  funny. 

As  I  was  saying,  the  concert  began,  and  with  a 
few  friends  we  sat  before  the  doors  of  the  casino, 
watching  the  crowd  as  it  moved  about,  and  the 
carabinieri  (military  police),  who  walked  slowly  up 
and  down.  Under  primitive  tents,  at  improvised 
counters,  torrone  and  other  strictly  Sicilian  dainties 
were  sold  by  the  light  of  swinging  lanterns,  sparkling 
in  the  shade,  and  showing  on  the  counters  some 
graceful,  primitive  scales  of  rope  and  wicker-work. 

At  11  o'clock,  the  concert  being  over,  some- 
one brought  the  bandmaster  and  introduced  him. 
We  talked  of  music,  of  local  politics,  gossiped  a 
little,  and  went  back  into  the  house  for  a  midnight 
supper. 

Next  morning,  at  4  o'clock,  the  terrible  musicians 


66         SICILIAN  WAYS  AND  DAYS 

came   under   our    windows   to   remind   us   noisily, 
that  the  proper  time  had   come   for  celebrating 
St.  Joseph.  .  .  . 

After  us,  they  "  did "  all  the  village,  and  I 
remember  just  a  confusion  of  marches  and  polkas, 
drum-beating  and  bell-ringing,  succeeding  each 
other  ;  and  they  ended  by  performing  all  together, 
in  wildest  confusion. 

"  Surely,"  I  remarked  to  Alessandro, "  your  festa 
consists  mostly  of  noise  f 

"  Voscenza  *  sees,"  he  answered, "  joy  is  expressed 
here  by  noise.  The  noise  of  to-day  is  nothing 
compared  to  what  used  to  be  done  in  similar 
occurrences  when  I  was  a  boy.  They  used  to 
arrange  in  the  principal  streets  of  the  village,  but 
mostly  along  the  piazza,  thousands  of  large  and 
small  mortars  {jnortaretti),  connected  to  each  other 
by  a  train  of  gunpowder  ;  when  these  were  set  fire 
to,  frightful  reports  followed  upon  each  other 
rapidly,  and  the  whole  village  was  violently  shaken 
for  a  whole  hour  sometimes.  But  so  many  panes 
of  glass  were  broken,  and  so  many  accidents 
happened,  that  the  authorities  have  suppressed 
these  mortar  etti  which  were  so  popular.  ..." 

"  Still,"  I  answer,  "  in  spite  of  their  charm,  it  is 
*  Voscenza,  Your  Excellence. 


A  SACK  OF  CORN  WAS  PLACED  ON  A  MULE."    (Page  67.) 


'THE  FEAST  OF  ST.  JOSEPH."    (Page  69.) 


To  face  page ' 


THE  FEAST  OF  ST.  JOSEPH         67 

quite  evident  that  St.  Joseph  can  be  honoured 
without  so  much  cannonading  !" 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Alessandro — he  was  bound 
to  have  his  joke  at  the  saint.  "St.  Joseph's 
head  being  of  wood,  it  is  not  certain  that  he 
hears  the  shouts,  and  the  band,  and  the  panegirico 
that  the  priest  says  in  the  church  for  him,  but 
the  mortaretti  ...  it  is  quite  sure  he  heard 
them'' 

Towards  midday  I  saw  a  touching  sight:  the 
band,  followed  by  the  crowd,  crossed  the  piazza 
playing  a  cheerful  air ;  in  front  of  it  walked  a  man 
in  black  velvet,  with  top-boots  and  a  black  cotton 
cap.  He  carried  a  child  who  held  a  tall  taper,  over 
which  were  pinned  numerous  bank-notes.  This 
was  a  sum  of  money  to  be  offered  to  St.  Joseph. 
They  proceeded  on  towards  the  church,  where  the 
child  laid  the  taper  by  St.  Joseph's  statue,  whilst 
the  band  played  outside  to  escort  him  home  again. 

A  little  later  another  ceremony  of  the  same  kind 
attracted  my  attention.  It  was  not  money  that 
they  offered  to  St.  Joseph  this  time,  but  a  gift  in 
kind.  A  sack  of  corn  was  placed  on  a  mule  richly 
adorned  with  red-braid  ornaments,  bows,  tassels, 
and  shiny  glass  decorations.  The  mule,  escorted 
by  the  band  and  enthusiastic   crowd,   penetrated 

5—2 


68         SICILIAN  WAYS  AND  DAYS 

right  into  the  church,  where  the  sack  of  corn  was 
deposited  at  St.  Joseph's  feet. 

All  the  afternoon  there  was  an  unusual  animation 
on  the  piazza,  swarming  with  people  in  festive 
clothes;  the  men  crowded  together,  of  course, 
whilst  the  women  only  crossed  the  piazza  on  their 
way  to  church.  Closely  draped  in  their  black 
mantelline,  they  went  slowly  by,  veiling  their  faces 
still  more  when  they  passed  some  men — only  one 
eye  was  visible  then,  in  Oriental  fashion.  These 
women  would  have  thought  themselves  dishonoured 
for  life  if  they  had  stopped  near  their  men-folk  to 
hear  the  music. 

Towards  five  o'clock  the  band  went  to  the  church 
to  fetch  St.  Joseph,  who  was  to  go  round  the 
village;  it  was  time  for  the  procession,  as  the 
excited  bell-ringing  and  furious  drum -beating 
announced  to  all  the  village. 

When  the  imposing  wooden  stand  with  the 
statue  of  St.  Joseph  left  the  church,  and  tottered 
down  the  slope,  the  band  struck  up  the  Italian 
"  Royal  March  "  and  we  went  out  to  see  the  sight 
— a  strange  one  indeed  ! 

First  came  the  big  drums,  beaten  with  a  fierce 
and  comical  energy  by  two  tipsy-looking  men, 
arrayed  in  flowing  red  robes,  much  spotted  and 


ON  THEIH  WAY  TO  CHURCH."     (Page  6.s.) 


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"THE  BAND  GOING  TO  CHURCH."    (Page  68.) 


To  face  page  68. 


THE  FEAST  OF  ST.  JOSEPH         69 

rather  the  worse  for  wear.  After  them  a  multitude 
of  men  preceded  the  brothers,  or  members  of  a 
guild  called  after  the  Holy  Sacrament,  mostly 
elderly  men.  They  wore  robes  and  hoods  of  red 
silk,  and  a  younger  member  carried  an  immense 
red  flag,  which  he  skilfully  balanced  on  one  hand, 
on  his  chest,  or  on  his  chin !  Another  "  brother  " 
carried  a  small  wooden  crucifix.  After  them  came 
a  few  carabinieri  in  full  uniform,  with  their  officer 
they  have  to  attend  processions,  as  squabbles  and 
stabbing  amongst  the  men  who  carry  the  saint 
often  disturb  these  religious  functions.  Behind 
them  walked  the  priests  in  their  lace  surplices,  and 
immediately  after  an  immense  stand  of  painted 
wood,  upon  which  a  large  St.  Joseph  in  red  and 
blue  robes  held  by  the  hand  a  small  Child  Jesus  in 
blue.  This  large  stand  was  supported  on  two 
long  poles  resting  on  the  shoulders  of  some  eighty 
men,  forty  on  each  side. 

This  monument  proceeded  on  its  way  majestically, 
if  with  difficulty,  and  all  around  it  a  crowd  of 
excited  men  shouted  now  and  then  with  one 
voice,  Evviva  San  Giuseppuzzo !  (Hurrah  for 
St.  Joseph  !  Giuseppuzzo  is  the  Sicilian  diminutive 
for  Joseph).     It  was  more  savage  than  religious. 

Next  came  the  band,  playing  an  opera  air,  and, 


70         SICILIAN  WAYS  AND  DAYS 

lastly,  the  best  part  of  that  primitive  procession, 
a  compact  crowd  of  women  tightly  draped  in  their 
black  capes,  which  did  not  hide  their  fine  eyes, 
invariably  black  and  full  of  expression. 

The  big  statue  of  St.  Joseph,  who  seemed  to 
soar  over  the  roofs,  had  already  turned  round  the 
corner  with  a  bearing  which  lacked  stability ;  the 
band  proceeded  slowly  after  it,  still  playing,  and 
the  packed  crowd  of  veiled  women  continued 
passing  slowly  by  in  deep  religious  silence,  all 
heads  bowed  under  the  black  cloth  capes  falling 
below  the  waist ;  lower  still  the  bright-coloured 
skirts  gave  a  charming  finish  to  the  costume,  and 
completed  the  picture  in  the  Oriental  scenery  of 
low,  white  houses,  under  the  purity  of  a  Southern 
sky. 

St.  Joseph  was  restored  to  his  post  in  the  church, 
which  he  was  made  to  enter  backwards,  sky- 
rockets being  sent  up  in  front  of  him.  Night 
having  set  in,  the  bandmaster  and  his  musicians 
resumed  their  seats  on  the  stand,  and  we,  in  duty 
bound,  went  and  sat  once  more  in  front  of  the 
casino  to  listen  to  the  music. 

After  the  first  piece,  authorization  from  the 
Sindaco  was  duly  requested  and  granted  to  Ught 
up  a  magnificent  set  of  fireworks,  the  wooden  net- 


THE  FEAST  OF  ST.  JOSEPH         71 

work  of  which  was  built  on  the  slope  in  front  of 
the  church ;  it  lasted  a  long  time,  and  was  silently 
admired  and  appreciated  by  the  large  crowd  which 
now  swarmed  on  the  place,  whilst  the  one  or  the 
other  of  the  two  bands  enlivened  it  with  its  most 
cheerful  airs,  and  the  little  improvised  counters  did 
good  business,  the  danghng  lanterns  showing  off 
in  the  gloom  the  graceful  scales  of  prehistoric 
shape,  and  lighting  up  in  the  shade  some  Arab 
faces  with  sparkling  eyes  and  dazzhng  teeth. 

The  fireworks  being  over,  the  concert  began. 
As  I  found  no  waltz  on  the  programme,  they  sent 
for  the  procuratore  of  the  feast,  and  despatched 
him  to  the  bandmaster  to  ask  for  one  in  my  name. 

It  was  readily  granted,  and  played  to  perfection, 
and  was  nearly  over  when  some  loud  reports 
scared  us,  and  the  crowd  scattered  wildly  in  all 
directions. 

The  Sindaco,  who  in  small  places  is  also  head  of 
the  local  poHce,  rushed  out  of  the  casino,  and, 
followed  by  his  cousins,  ran  in  the  direction  of  the 
noise,  whilst  some  of  our  men  who  stood  near 
came  and  shut  us  up  in  the  casino,  for  fear,  they 
said,  a  stray  bullet  should  come  our  way ;  in  the 
meanwhile  women  and  children  flew  about  scream- 
ng  in  all   directions,   and    the   band,   of  course, 


72         SICILIAN  WAYS  AND  DAYS 

stopped  playing.  It  was  most  unpleasant,  but 
exciting. 

Yery  soon,  however,  the  noise  and  confusion 
subsided  a  little,  especially  when  a  man  came 
breathlessly  up  to  explain  that  two  foreigners^ 
natives  of  Serradifalco,  a  neighbouring  village,  had 
been  quarrelling  about  the  music,  and  had  harm- 
lessly fired  their  revolvers  at  each  other.  The 
Sindaco  had  had  them  both  arrested  by  the  cara- 
binieri ;  and  as  he  appeared  upon  the  scene, 
looking  quite  cool  and  collected,  we  brought 
our  chairs  outside  once  more,  the  crowd  came 
confidently  back  on  the  piazza,  the  musicians,  who 
had  sat  patiently  waiting  for  the  little  disturbance 
to  be  over,  began  a  brilliant  piece,  and  all  was 
once  more  festive  and  harmonious. 

Towards  midnight,  the  concert  being  over,  the 
discursive  bandmaster  from  Canicatti  came  to  see 
us  at  the  casino,  and  received  our  compliments, 
and  we  talked  till  after  midnight ;  the  broad  white 
piazza,  a  moment  before  so  crowded  and  noisy, 
now  deserted  and  silent,  lay  under  the  shadows  of 
a  mild,  starht  night;  all  was  peace  and  silence 
once  more,  and,  to  say  the  truth,  I  was  not  sorry 
to  think  the  Feast  of  St.  Joseph  was  over. 


'  THE  CALVARY. "    (Page  73.) 


f.=!^. 


r0 


THIS  LARGE  STAND  WAS  SUPPORTED  ON  TWO  LONG  POLES."    (Page  69.) 


Tojacei)age  72. 


LENT  AND  EASTER 

One  of  the  first  signs  of  Lent  is  the  lamp  that 
some  pious  person  goes  to  light  every  Friday 
evening  at  the  foot  of  a  large  black  cross  which 
rises  on  a  stone  terrace,  built  on  the  top  of  a  barren 
hill  outside  the  village.  This  hill,  at  the  spot 
vv^here  the  cross  stands,  is  called  the  Calvary, 
because  on  Good  Friday,  after  a  curious  procession, 
a  wooden  effigy  of  our  Lord  is  solemnly  carried 
there  and  crucified. 

This  lamp,  burning  on  the  height  at  the  foot  of 
the  cross  in  the  living  silence  of  our  mild  spring 
evenings,  has  a  very  striking  effect. 

Also  every  Friday  evening  the  best  male  singers 
in  the  place  meet  in  a  neighbouring  house,  or 
oftener,  walk  through  the  village  streets,  and  sing 
a  strange  lamentation  in  a  minor  key  on  the 
Passion,  Crucifixion,  and  Death  of  Jesus. 

The  melody  consists  of  a  few  notes  sung  slowly, 
without  any  metre,  in  Gregorian  fashion,  but  it  is 
sung  in  parts,  and  is  perfectly  harmonious.     One 

7S 


74         SICILIAN  WAYS  AND  DAYS 

could  not  imagine  a  better,  a  more  impressive, 
song  of  sorrow. 

Being  anxious  to  become  acquainted  with  the 
words  of  these  Lenten  lamentations,  I  had  the  old 
man  who  always  takes  the  lead  in  them  brought 
o  me,  and  during  a  lengthy  interview,  and  with 
much  difficulty,  I  was  able  to  transcribe  the 
following  verses,  which,  he  said,  had  never  been 
printed,  but  had  been  transmitted  from  father  to  son 
for  many  generations ;  his  own  father  had  taught 
them  to  him  many  years  ago  when  working  in  the 
fields  together. 

It  was  rather  difficult  to  write  these  lamenti, 
as  he  called  them,  for  he  dictated  a  strange  and 
confusing  mixture  of  Latin,  Sicilian,  and  Italian. 
This  is  what  I  was  able  to  make  of  it,  and  a 
strange  piece  of  folklore  it  is : 

"  O  my  people !  what  have  I  done  unto  thee  ? 
Pray,  answer  Me  !" 

"  His  mother  was  standing. 
And  looked  on  the  painful  cross 
Where  hung  her  Son/* 

"  O  most  sweet  Jesus  ! 
Thou  wast  beaten.  "" 

Have  pity  upon  us  !" 

"  Oh,  the  blows  my  Lord  received  ! 
Cease  tormenting  the  beloved  Jesus  ! 
Rather,  strike  my  soul,  who  was  the  cause  of  it." 


>     • 


•      "  •      >-»  ;  » 


,    'o  >     - »    o  . 


LEADER  IN  THE  LENTEN  LAMENTATIONS. 
(Page  74.) 


THE  PAJ.M  OF  THE  '  LAVATORE.  '^    (Pago  60.) 


To  face  page  74. 


LENT  AND  EASTER  75 

"  The  mother  sits  at  the  foot  of  the  painful  wood. 
And  to-day,  with  her  tears,  will  wash  it." 

"  Let  them  take  to  the  holy  sepulchre 
His  holy  Body,  which  to-day  was  tortured." 

"  Oh,  royal  banners  ! 
Oh,  worshipped  spears  ! 
Let  us  wash  His  hands. 
All  stained  with  blood." 

''  My  Jesus,  this  my  heart  is  hard  as  stone ; 
Melt  it  with  Thy  love. 
My  dear,  good  Jesus,  I  will  sin  no  more." 

" '  Mary,'  thus  called  the  Lord, 
'  O  my  mother,  I  want  to  go  !' 

'  Where  wilt  Thou  go.  Son  of  my  love. 
My  comfort,  and  my  hope  ? 
Do  not  come  late.' 

'  I  go  to  the  Garden  of  Gethsemane.' 

'  My  Son,  what  wilt  Thou  do  there  ?' 

'  Mother,  I  go  to  die.' 

'  Have  pity  upon  my  sorrow  ! 
If  Thou  goest.  Son,  how  shall  I  fare  ? 
How  canst  Thou  leave  me  amongst  strangers, 
Apple  of  my  eye,  my  greatest  favour  ? 
To  whom  shall  I  turn — to  the  strangers  ?' 

'  Holy  mother,  I  leave  John  with  thee  ; 
He  will  worship  thee.' 

'  Thou  leavest  me  sorrowful  and  downcast. 
My  Son,  how  shall  I  fare  without  Thee  .'* 
Let's  walk  together — show  me  the  road ; 
Where  Thou  diest,  I  also  will  die.' 

'  It  is  I  who  must  die,  loving  mother. 
Bless  Me,  respected  mother. 
Laden  with  grief,  and  sighs,  and  sorrows  ! 
I  bear  an  immense  love  to  sinners, 
And  My  death  will  be  victorious.' " 


76         SICILIAN  WAYS  AND  DAYS 

This  is  but  a  short  extract  of  the  many  pages  of 
lamenti  which  I  was  able  to  write  with  the  old 
man's  help.  Before  he  left  me  I  told  him  my  wish 
to  hear  them  sung  again.  So  that  same  evening, 
towards  midnight,  he  came  with  his  usual  singing 
companions,  three  or  four  in  number,  and,  standing 
at  a  little  distance  from  the  house,  they  sang  the 
mournful  melody,  filling  the  night,  with  their 
harmonious  voices  blending  perfectly  together ; 
whilst,  as  they  sang  the  ingenuously  pathetic 
hymn,  they  turned  towards  the  hill  in  the  distance 
where  the  lamp  burnt  brightly  in  the  darkness,  on 
the  Calvary. 

He  4:  ♦  ♦  4: 

Sicilians  of  the  lower  classes,  especially  in  the 
country,  are  devout  worshippers,  and  conform 
scrupulously  to  all  the  forms  and  ordinances  of  the 
Church — differing  much  in  this  respect  from  their 
brethren  of  Northern  Italy — and  their  devotion 
is  seen  at  its  best  in  Lent,  when  they  follow  with 
fervour  all  the  rites  appointed  by  the  Church  for 
this  season. 

As  far  as  their  work  in  the  fields  and  mines 
allows  them,  they  attend  regularly  the  morning  and 
evening  services  in  church  ;  they  all  go  through  a 
strict  course  of  mortification,  fasting,  prayers  and 


'.  'i  •;  ;  r* 


THE  "FRATELLI."    (Page  SO.) 


"  MEN  AND  BOYS  EACH  CARRYING  A  PALM."    (Page  SO.) 


To  face  page  76. 


LENT  AND  EASTER  77 

penances,  to  become  fit  for  Confession  and  Absolu- 
tion before  Easter. 

A  special  preacher,  a  Franciscan  monk,  has 
come  here  for  the  Lenten  predications  ;  he  daily 
gives  to  his  ignorant  but  devout  listeners  a  stirring 
sermon  about  sin,  repentance,  the  punishment  of 
sinners,  and  the  reward  won  by  a  holy  life.  And, 
not  content  with  this,  at  a  given  moment  he  sets 
to  his  congregation  the  example  of  flagellation  by 
beating  himself  with  wire  ropes. 

When  this  Franciscan  friar  arrived,  all  the  in- 
habitants of  the  place,  led  by  the  priest,  went  forth 
in  procession  to  meet  him,  and  when  he  arrived  on 
the  piazza,  the  church-bells  and  big  drums  rang 
and  beat  for  joy  ;  whilst  the  crowd  around  him, 
the  women  especially,  kissed  his  hands  and  the 
hem  of  his  tunic,  for  he  has  the  reputation  of  being 
a  saint. 

*  *  ♦  *  ♦ 

In  order,  perhaps,  to  break  the  continual  tension 
of  incessant  devotional  practices,  there  is  a  rather 
curious  institution  here,  called  "  Feasts  of  the 
Saturdays  " — that  is  to  say,  on  all  the  Saturdays  in 
Lent  a  feast  is  held  in  honour  of  the  Madonna. 

These  little  festas  consist  of  a  High  Mass,  beat- 
ing the  drums  round  the  village  and  in  front  of  the 


78         SICILIAN  WAYS  AND  DAYS 

church,  sending  up  sky-rockets,  and  assisting  with 
gifts  of  food  and  clothes  some  destitute  child. 
When  enough  money  has  been  collected,  the  band 
is  paid  to  play  about  the  village  and  on  the  piazza 
most  of  the  day,  and  in  that  case  the  Saturday 
feast  becomes  a  very  bright  one.  A  certain  sum  of 
money  is  needed  for  all  this,  and  as  each  Saturday 
the  festa  is  organized  by  a  special  set  of  people* 
it  is  a  deputation  of  the  particular  set  whose  Satur- 
day it  happens  to  be  who  the  day  before  go  collecting 
money  from  house  to  house,  one  of  the  party  bearing 
a  small  tray,  on  which  the  money  is  deposited. 

The  Saturdays  are  appointed  as  follows  :  priests, 
artisans,  landholders,  bachelors,  miners,  day- 
labourers,  gentlemen. 

I  was  talking  with  Alessandro,  my  usual  eluci- 
dator  of  things  incomprehensible,  about  these 
Saturdays,  and  he  explained  that  every  set  in  the 
above  list  is  expected  to  contribute  exclusively 
towards  its  own  festa  ;  so  that  a  day-labourer  never 
gives  towards  the  Saturday  of  miners,  nor  the 
priests  towards  the  Saturday  of  gentlemen,  and 
so  on. 

"  But,"  said  Alessandro,  grinning,  "  there  is  one 
here  who  last  year  had  to  contribute  to  all  the 
Saturdays  but  one." 


'MEN  AND  CHILDREN  CARRYING  PALMS."    (Page  80.) 


"THE  WIDE  PIAZZA."    (Page  81.) 


To  face  page  7  S. 


LENT  AND  EASTER  79 

"  Really,"  I  said ;  "  and  who  is  this  universal 
person  ?" 

"  It  is  Signor  F ;   the  one  who  works  the 

mines  below  the  Calvary.  Voscenza  knows  he 
works  a  great  deal,  and  he  has  so  often  boasted 
of  doing  the  work  of  artisan,  peasant,  and  day- 
labourer  all  in  one,  and  has  so  much  fraternized 
with  every  one  of  them,  that  they  all  went  in  turns 
to  collect  at  his  house  when  their  respective  Satur- 
days were  coming  off,  on  the  plea  that  he  was  one  of 
them,  and  he  readily  gave  to  each.  Then,  as  he  is 
unmarried,  the  bachelors  went  to  him  ;  and,  as  a 
matter  of  course,  the  miners,  because  he  works 
several  mines ;  and  lastly,  as  a  gentleman,  he  had 
to  contribute  to  the  gentlemen's  Saturday." 

"  But  what  about  the  Saturday  of  the  priests, 
Alessandro  ?     Did  he  contribute  to  that  also  ?" 

"No,  indeed" — with  another  grin — "they  did 
not  consider  him  as  belonging  to  their  set !" 

All  feast-days  have  their  vigil:  every  Friday 
evening,  therefore,  is  the  vigil  of  the  Saturday 
feast ;  and  according  to  a  love  of  contrast  very 
marked  in  Sicilians,  whilst  on  the  one  side  the 
lamp  burns  at  the  foot  of  the  cross  on  the  hill,  and 
the  Lenten  singers  go  about  the  village,  filling  it 
with    their    harmonious    but    mournful    lamenti 


80         SICILIAN  WAYS  AND  DAYS 

because  it  is  Friday,  on  the  other  side  sky-rockets 
are  sent  spluttering  up  all  the  evening,  and  the 
drummers  beat  anywhere  and  anyhow,  because  it  is 
the  vigil  of  Saturday. 

*  *  *  *  * 

We  have,  after  many  cheerful  Saturdays,  come 
to  Palm  Sunday.  A  great  quantity  of  palm- 
branches  were  brought  from  the  Lavatore  —  a 
valley  below  Montedoro — and  distributed  to  all 
the  village. 

The  benediction  of  these  palms  took  place  to- 
day in  a  picturesque  fashion.  Whilst  the  women 
— who  in  this  country  always  remain  in  the  shade 
— all  gathered  in  the  church,  the  men  and  boys, 
each  carrying  a  palm,  met  before  the  Oratory, 
from  whence  about  twenty  men  came  out.  They 
belong  to  the  Guild  of  the  Holy  Sacrament,  and 
are  called  the  Fratelli,  They  each  wore  a  long 
white  silk  robe,  a  red  silk  cape,  and  a  white  hood 
trimmed  with  lace.  It  is  not  easy  to  imagine  the 
contrast  between  the  dainty  white  hoods  and  the 
dark,  Arab-looking  faces  they  encircled.  One  of 
the  Fratelli  carried  a  crucifix.  They  started  on 
their  way  preceded  by  a  few  priests  and  the  in- 
evitable drum,  and  followed  by  a  crowd  of  men 
and   children  carrying  palms,  and  this   strikingly 


THB  "VIRGINEDDE."    (Page  85.) 


THE  "ADDOLORATA."    (Page  8(3.) 


To  face  page  m. 


LENT  AND  EASTER  81 

simple  procession  proceeded,  drum  to  the  fore, 
down  a  sloping  street ;  from  the  houses  on  either 
side  more  palm-bearers  came  out  and  joined 
the  procession,  making  it  look  like  a  moving 
forest. 

At  the  bottom  of  the  road  it  turned  the  corner, 
and  crossed  the  wide  piazza,  dazzling  with  sun- 
shine, surrounded  by  low,  white  houses,  the  red  of 
the  capes  and  the  sombre  green  of  the  palms  giving 
a  pleasant  note  of  colour.  The  drum  alone  was 
not  wanted. 

We  went  into  the  church  where  the  women 
were  all  kneeling,  bowed  under  their  black  capes, 
the  men  standing,  and  the  doors  were  thrown 
wide  open  for  the  procession  to  come  in,  with  a 
great  rustling  of  palms.  Mass  was  said,  rather 
hurriedly — for  the  youthful  palm-bearers  caused 
great  agitation — and  everything  was  over, 
•je  *  *  ^f  -x- 

On  Maundy  Thursday  they  prepared  in  the 
Oratory  a  meal  for  the  twelve  Apostles,  chosen 
amongst  the  lay-brothers  of  the  Holy  Sacrament. 

Some  women  worked  all  the  previous  night  at 
the  preparation  of  the  table,  whilst  their  babies, 
whom  they  could  not  leave  at  home,  cried  or  slept 
in  all  the  corners  of  the  church. 

6 


82         SICILIAN  WAYS  AND  DAYS 

This  last  piece  of  information  was  volunteered 
by  Alessandro,  who  took  me  to  inspect  the  table, 
and  very  curious  indeed  I  found  it. 

The  places  were  marked  by  twelve  little  trays, 
six  on  each  side.  Each  tray  contained  walnuts, 
almonds,  common  sweets,  tough-looking  biscuits, 
and  other  things  of  that  sort.  On  one  side  of  the 
tray  stood  a  pretty  loaf,  surmounted  by  an  orange, 
in  which  a  stock  flower  had  been  stuck.  This  was 
of  doubtful  taste.  On  the  other  side  of  each  tray 
every  Apostle  found  a  fennel,  with  its  long,  green, 
hair-like  leaves,  and  a  small  decanter  of  wine  ;  and, 
finally,  in  front  of  the  tray  stood  a  smart,  be- 
ribboned  sugar-lamb,  covered  with  spangles,  and 
holding  between  its  paws  a  pink  satin  banner.  All 
this,  exactly  reproduced  twelve  times,  was  a  very 
odd  sight. 

Some  bunches  of  flowers,  tightly  pressed  together, 
with  no  attempt  at  gracefulness,  were  placed  upon 
the  table,  with  strict  observance  of  symmetry; 
and  lastly,  at  one  extremity  of  the  table,  to  crown 
it  all,  a  magnificent  china  vase  with  much  gilding 
about  it,  out  of  which  rose  stiffly  an  enormous  posy 
of  artificial  flowers  I 

It  being  time  for  the  Paschal  Supper  to  begin — 
it  was  11  a.m. — the  twelve  Apostles  trooped  in, 


THE  "URNA."    (Page  SO.) 


THE  "ADDOLORATA."    (Page  80.) 


To  face  page  82, 


LENT  AND  EASTER  83 

robed  in  white,  with  a  scarf  of  coloured  silk  and  a 
ribbon  bow  on  the  left  shoulder.  By  some  mys- 
terious means  they  had  stuck  on  to  the  back  of 
their  heads  a  gilt  cardboard  halo,  and  thus  got  up 
these  dark,  clean-shaven  Sicilians  looked  most 
queer. 

They  sat  on  the  twelve  chairs  at  a  good  distance 
from  the  table,  and  a  fat  priest  pretended  to  wash 
their  feet  in  a  lovely  blue  china  basin — which  I 
recognized  as  belonging  to  my  washing-room — after 
which  a  thin  priest  made  a  feint  of  wiping  them. 

I  then  perceived  that,  in  order  to  facilitate  this 
operation,  the  Apostles  wore  slippers,  which  they 
had  put  on  in  the  church,  and  their  wives,  who 
stood  in  a  solemn  row  behind  their  chairs,  held  their 
boots  tied  up  in  a  napkin  ! 

These  fictitious  ablutions  happily  over,  the  priest 
rapidly  blessed  the  table  and  gave  each  Apostle  his 
part — he  put  the  loaf,  the  orange,  the  contents  of 
the  tray,  and  the  sugar-lamb  all  higgledy-piggledy 
into  a  table-napkin  he  had  brought  for  this  purpose, 
tied  it  into  a  parcel,  and  passed  it  to  his  wife  behind, 
keeping  under  his  hand  the  bottle  of  wine  only. 

The  twelve  happy  families  and  an  excited 
crowd  of  onlookers  now  gave  way  to  many 
exclamations  of  joy  and  cheering,  which  were,  to 

6—2 


84         SICILIAN  WAYS  AND  DAYS 

me,  rather  startling,  since  we  were  in  church ;  but 
this,  to  them,  was  a  secondary  matter,  and  a  few 
men  cleared  the  table  in  the  midst  of  a  general 
confusion,  the  twelve  happy  mortals  put  on  their 
boots  again,  took  off  their  finery,  and,  with  their 
rejoicing  wives  and  children,  carried  triumphantly 
home  the  Paschal  Supper. 

♦  *  *  *  * 

The  Lenten  season  is  drawing  to  its  close  ;  to-day 
is  Good  Friday,  and  since  yesterday  the  bells  are 
no  longer  rung,  but  as  there  must  be  some  means 
of  calling  the  faithful  to  church,  before  every  service 
a  mortar  is  set  fire  to  in  front  of  it.  This  warlike 
thing  makes  a  frightful  noise,  and  as  the  church 
is  close  to  us,  and  something  is  continually  going 
on  in  it,  I  start  at  every  report  and  live  in  a  state  of 
perpetual  emotion,  whilst  the  smell  of  gunpowder 
in  the  air  is  not  at  all  conducive  to  a  religious  train 
of  thought. 

Since  this  morning  three  black  flags  float  lugu- 
briously in  the  breeze  on  the  grey  stone  terrace 
of  the  Calvary,  around  the  cross. 

At  1  o'clock  a  few  cannon  reports  called  the 
population  to  the  Oratory  to  take  the  wooden  eflSgy 
of  our  Lord  and  carry  it  up  to  the  Calvary  to  be 
crucified. 


J       a  J  ■> . 


J         3     »        ' 

1 '     J    ^      » 

>     ,  >    >     '  : 


"THE  STEEP  PATH  IN  THE  DIRECTION  OF  THE  CALVARY."    (Page  87.) 


A  RED  AND  YELLOW  SILK  CANOPY."    (Page  SG.) 


To  face  page  84. 


LENT  AND  EASTER  85 

After  the  cannon  reports  I  heard  the  beat  of  the 
muffled  drums,  and  went  to  one  end  of  the  piazza 
to  see  the  procession  come  down. 

The  broad,  white  space  was  dotted  with  women 
in  black,  their  heads  bowed  under  their  black 
mantelline,  all,  or  nearly  all,  kneeling;  the  men 
stood,  bareheaded  and  silent,  and  in  their  midst  the 
procession,  a  weird  one,  advanced  slowly,  through  a 
silent,  awe-stricken  crowd. 

In  front  walked  about  fifty  little  boys,  who  now 
and  then,  at  a  given  signal,  shook  all  together 
wooden  rattles,  those  special  playthings  of  the 
Holy  Week  in  Roman  Catholic  countries  of  the 
South. 

Behind  them  came  a  man  with  a  long  trumpet, 
from  which,  at  intervals  of  one  minute,  when  the 
rattles  were  hushed,  he  drew  a  shrill  note,  one  only  ; 
then  came  the  muffled  drums,  also  beating  a  solitary 
beat  from  time  to  time — they  were  veiled  in  black 
crape,  as  for  a  funeral. 

Next  came  a  dozen  or  more  little  girls  from  eight 
to  twelve  years  old,  called  in  Sicilian  the  verginedde 
(little  virgins).  They  were  dressed  in  black,  and 
over  each  head  flowed  a  large  black  veil,  under 
which  their  hair  hung  in  stiff,  shiny  curls,  the  whole 
arrangement,  strange  to  say,  being  finished  oiF  with 


86         SICILIAN  WAYS  AND  DAYS 

a  big  wreath  of  artificial  flowers  of  gaudy  colours. 
Some  of  the  virginedde  bore  with  compunction  on 
little  trays  the  one  the  nails,  the  other  the  hammer, 
another  the  crown  of  thorns  and  other  accessories 
of  this  mournful  travesty. 

After  them  came  the  priests  in  their  cassocks, 
and  then  a  large  crystal  case,  called  here  the  urna, 
in  which,  upon  a  satin  mattress,  reclines  a  wooden 
effigy  of  our  Lord,  painfully  realistic,  covered  with 
red  smears  to  represent  blood.  This  iirna  was 
carried  on  the  shoulders  of  some  forty  men,  and 
others  held  over  it  a  red  and  yellow  silk  canopy. 
By  the  side  of  it  the  same  number  of  men  carried  a 
wooden  statue  of  the  Madonna  —  always  called 
here  the  Bedda  Matri  (Beautiful  Mother) ;  but  to 
this  one  who  escorts  her  son  to  the  crucifixion 
they  give  the  name  of  Addolorata  (our  Lady  of 
Sorrows).  Behind  her  walked  a  crowd  of  women, 
their  heads  and  faces  hidden  in  their  black  mantel- 
line,  all  singing  a  mournful  dirge  as  they  went. 
This  procession  impressed  me  painfully  as  it 
crossed  the  piazza  slowly  under  a  leaden  sky,  the 
muffled  drum  and  the  trumpet  sending  out  now  and 
then  their  funereal  note  in  the  midst  of  all  those 
black,  singing  figures,  some  of  them  kneeling.  We 
went  out  of  the  village  to  see  it  ascend  the  bare, 


LENT  AND  EASTER  87 

desolate  hill  which,  with  its  cross,  represents  so  well 
the  hill  of  Golgotha. 

Around  us,  below,  behind,  on  the  hill,  women  in 
black  were  humbly  kneeling,  some  almost  prostrate, 
shrouded  in  their  black  capes,  and  in  their  midst  the 
procession  slowly  wended  upwards,  ascending  the 
steep  path  in  the  direction  of  the  Calvary,  with  its 
cross  and  three  black  flags,  under  a  grey  sky,  the 
rattles,  muffled  drums  and  shrill  trumpet  giving  out 
now  and  then  their  dismal  accompaniment. 

Once  at  the  Calvary,  the  crowd  of  men  and 
women  knelt  in  picturesque  groups  all  round ;  the 
priests  took  the  effigy  of  our  Lord  out  of  the 
crystal  case,  and  acting  the  part  of  the  Roman 
soldiers,  truly  crucified  it,  hammering  in  the  nails 
carried  by  the  virginedde,  and  placing  on  its  head 
the  crown  of  thorns.     It  was  all  dreadfully  realistic. 

After  the  crucifixion  was  over,  they  all  walked 
down  again,  carrying  the  empty  urna. 

It  was  strange,  during  the  afternoon,  to  see  on 
the  cross  this  effigy,  whose  thin  body  glimmered  in 
the  sunshine ;  a  flax-coloured  wig  on  the  head  and 
a  blue  silk  scarf  around  the  loins  fluttered  in  the 
wind.  Below,  on  the  grey  stone  terrace,  the  little 
black  flags  waved  about,  and  lower  still  the  black 
figures  knelt   during   an   unceasing  pilgrimage  of 


88         SICILIAN  WAYS  AND  DAYS 

women  and  children,  who  slowly  ascended  the  hill, 
knelt  down  at  the  foot  of  the  cross,  and,  before 
coming  away,  kissed  the  feet  of  the  crucified  effigy. 

"  What  a  strange  sight !"  I  remarked  to  Peppe, 
as  we  were  standing  a  little  way  off,  on  the  crest 
of  the  hill,  from  where  I  had  watched  the  whole 
performance. 

Peppe  often  attends  me  when  I  walk  out ;  he  is 
not  gifted  with  Alessandro's  caustic  wit,  but  in  spite 
of  this  his  conversation  is  not  without  its  charms. 

"  Ah  !"  he  remarked,  "  we,  as  you  see,  have  a 
proper  Christ  to  put  on  the  cross — a  Christ  of 
good,  solid  wood,  with  paint  that  will  not  wash  off 
in  the  rain  ;  but  at  Campofranco,  now — I  saw  it 
myself  one  year  I  was  there  for  Easter — they  only 
have  a  Christ  of  cardboard  ;*  they  can't  afford  a 
wooden  one,  perhaps.  It  had  been  crucified  but  half 
an  hour,  with  all  the  people  kneeling  round,  when 
rain  began  to  fall,  a  real  spring  downpour,  and 
the  cardboard  figure  was  threatened  with  destruc- 
tion, when  fortunately  someone  thought  of  hanging 
on  the  cross  a  large,  hooded  cloak,  such  as  shepherds 
wear,  and  so  it  remained  during  the  whole  afternoon, 
sheltered  under  the  cloak  hanging  on  to  the  arms 
of  the  cross !" 

*  He  probably  meant  papier  mache. 


THE  CRUCIFIXION.     (Page  87.) 


AT  THE  FOOT  OF  THE  CROSS.  '    (Page  88.) 


To  face  page  88. 


LENT  AND  EASTER  89 

"  Surely,"  I  said,  "  that  was  the  best  thing  they 
could  do,  was  it  not,  to  prevent  the  effigy  from 
melting  away  ?" 

"  That's  just  what  it  is,"  he  said  :  "  if  he  had  been 
of  wood,  he  would  have  stopped  the  rain.  But  what 
could  a  Christ  of  cardboard  do  ?  And  that's  the 
way  they  do  things  at  Campofranco,"  he  added, 
with  grim  irony. 

«  «  «  «  « 

One  hour  after  sunset  came  the  moment  of  the 
Deposition  from  the  cross. 

The  whole  population,  called  by  the  muffled  drum, 
assembled  before  the  Oratory,  from  whence  they 
took  the  empty  urna,  and  the  funereal  procession 
started  in  the  same  order  as  in  the  morning,  only 
the  effect  was  more  fantastic,  for  every  person  in 
the  procession  carried  a  pretty-coloured  paper 
lantern ;  and  these  hundreds  of  coloured  lights 
scattered  about  the  hill,  getting  gradually  nearer 
the  Calvary  where  the  three  lamps  stood  out 
brightly  in  the  gloom,  were  extremely  artistic. 

This  time,  in  front  of  the  virginedde,  who 
carried  their  empty  trays,  walked  a  group  of  five  or 
six  men — the  Lenten  singers — who  sang,  always  in 
a  minor  key,  and  with  much  feeling,  the  lamenti 
on  the   death  of  Jesus.     Their  singing,  perfectly 


90         SICILIAN  WAYS  AND  DAYS 

harmonious,  but  exceedingly  melancholy,  became 
weaker  and  weaker  as  the  procession  of  coloured 
lights  rose  higher,  and  was  the  best  part  of  the 
whole  performance. 

The  priests  took  down  the  effigy  from  the  cross, 
folded  its  movable  arms,  laid  it  back  on  the  silk 
mattress  in  the  crystal  case,  restored  the  crown  of 
thorns,  hammer,  nails,  etc.,  to  the  virginedde's  little 
trays,  and  they  all  came  down  once  more,  singing 
mournfully. 

As  the  coloured  lights  and  plaintive  singing  drew 
nearer  to  the  village,  the  shades  of  a  starless  night 
shrouded  the  hill  where  the  place  of  the  Calvary 
was  shown  by  the  three  lamps  burning  at  the  foot 
of  the  cross. 

♦  *  *  *  * 

It  is  commonly  believed  that  our  Lord  rose  on 
the  third  day,  but  in  Sicily  it  is  on  the  morning 
of  Easter  Eve,  on  the  Saturday,  that  they  com- 
memorate the  Resurrection. 

At  a  given  moment  of  the  morning  service  a 
great  painted  wooden  effigy  of  our  Lord  with  a 
white  cloud  under  its  feet  and  a  red  flag  in  one 
hand  is,  by  means  of  a  pulley,  violently  thrown  into 
the  air  from  behind  the  altar,  and  upon  reaching 
the  limit  of  this  precipitous  ascension,  a  set  of  large 


LENT  AND  EASTER  91 

gilt  wooden  rays  along  the  sides  of  its  back, 
shoulders,  and  head  opens  with  a  spasmodic  click, 
thus  surrounding  it  with  a  golden  halo  in  the 
delighted  eyes  of  the  gaping  crowd. 

At  that  solemn  moment  a  burst  of  enthusiasm 
breaks  upon  all,  the  priest  sings  a  triumphant  Te 
Deum,  the  people — the  women  especially — beat 
upon  their  breasts,  weeping  with  joy,  and  shouting 
Gloria  in  Excekis  Deo,  the  church -bells  ring 
wildly,  and  the  drum  -  beaters  beat  madly,  to 
announce  to  the  whole  village  that  Christ  is  risen 
indeed ! 

In  the  afternoon  another  surprise  was  in  store  for 
me.  I  was  familiar  with  the  ceremony  of  blessing 
the  houses  before  Easter,  but  had  never  seen  it 
done  in  such  a  post-haste  hurry.  A  priest  dressed 
in  white  lace  over  a  red  cassock,  and  followed  by 
a  boy  who  carried  a  pail  of  water,  came  into  the 
house  like  a  whirlwind,  and,  without  knocking, 
penetrated  into  all  the  rooms,  which  he  briskly 
sprinkled  with  holy  water  from  the  pail ;  and  this 
was  blessing  the  house  ! 

*  *  *  *  -jf- 

I  thought  that,  having  made  Christ  "rise"  on 
the  Saturday,  everything  was  over,  but  I  was 
mistaken,  for  they  told  me  that  this   morning — 


92         SICILIAN   WAYS  AND  DAYS 

Easter  Sunday — there  would  be  the  incontro  (meet- 
ing) between  our  risen  Lord  and  the  Bedda  Matri 
(Madonna)  on  the  village  square,  which  has  the 
shape  of  a  large  rectangle,  and  at  either  end  of 
which  I  found  they  had  erected  an  arch  of  branches 
closed  by  a  red  cotton  curtain. 

A  crowd  in  holiday  attire  lighted  up  the  square 
with  cheerful  bits  of  colour,  the  women  picturesque 
with  their  black  capes  and  their  bright- coloured 
gowns,  in  many  cases  of  silk,  with  neatly-stitched 
flounces ;  the  men  grave  and  stiff,  close-shaven, 
dark-complexioned,  many  of  them  in  black  velvet 
suits  and  shiny  top-boots.  They  all  sauntered  up 
and  down  the  piazza,  but  the  women  stood  grouped 
together,  hiding  under  their  black  capes  some 
babies  whose  small  brown  faces  only  were  visible, 
adorned  with  funny  caps  trimmed  profusely  with 
ribbons  and  conspicuous  bunches  of  artificial  flowers. 

Soon,  from  a  side-street  at  one  end  of  the  piazza, 
appeared  a  feminine  crowd  escorting  a  resplendent 
Madonna  of  painted  wood.  Her  stand,  as  usual, 
was  carried  by  a  large  number  of  men.  She  was 
dressed  in  a  gorgeous  robe  of  blue  silk  embroidered 
with  gilt  flowers  and  a  lovely  cloak  of  white  silk 
dotted  with  silver  stars.  On  her  head  was  a  monu- 
mental silver  crown ;  around  her  neck  were  gold 


HE  HKLU  HIS  HANDS  IN  THE  ATTITUDE  OF  PRAYER. 
(Page  !>3.) 


PEPPE."    (PdgeSS.) 


To  face  page  12. 


LENT  AND  EASTER  93 

chains,  with  lockets  and  watches  all  over  her  breast; 
many  bracelets  and  rings  ghttered  on  her  out- 
stretched arms  and  hands. 

A  black  veil  had  been  thrown  over  all  this 
splendour,  and,  upon  my  asking  the  reason  of  this, 
Alessandro  explained,  with  a  grin,  that  "the  Madonna 
wore  it  in  sign  of  mourning  because  she  had  not 
yet  been  told  of  the  resurrection  of  her  Son  "! 

They  placed  her  behind  the  curtain,  under  the 
arch  of  green  boughs. 

In  the  meanwhile,  at  the  other  extremity  of  the 
piazza,  arrived  a  wooden  effigy  of  our  Lord,  exactly 
like  the  one  which  had  "  risen  "  the  day  before, 
only  much  smaller,  perhaps  for  the  purpose  of 
carrying  it  more  easily  to  the  incontro.  It  had 
also  the  gilt  rays  all  round  its  body,  and  held  up 
a  red  flag. 

They  placed  it  under  the  other  arch,  behind  its 
curtain,  and  I  was  wondering  what  would  happen 
next,  when  a  serious-faced  youth  of  about  eighteen 
suddenly  appeared  upon  the  scene.  He  wore  the 
dress  of  the  "brothers" — white  robe  and  red  silk  scarf 
— and  a  cardboard  halo  mysteriously  stuck  at  the 
back  of  his  well-combed  head.  He  held  his  hands 
together  in  the  attitude  of  prayer,  and  the  crowd 
having  fallen  back  on  the  two  sides  of  the  piazza, 


94         SICILIAN  WAYS  AND  DAYS 

he  rapidly  walked  down  the  empty  space,  in  the 
attitude  I  have  described,  in  the  midst  of  a  religious 
silence. 

When  he  reached  the  curtain  which  hid  the 
Madonna  from  view,  he  bowed,  put  his  head 
behind  it  as  if  to  speak  to  her,  then  suddenly 
turned  back,  walked  up  the  piazza  again,  and  did 
the  same  thing  at  the  curtain  which  hid  the  effigy 
of  our  Lord,  and  then  walked  down  again  towards 
the  Madonna.  This  ceremony  was  repeated  three 
times  in  silence,  and,  naturally,  I  asked  what  it  all 
meant.  I  then  learnt  that  this  youth  represented 
St.  John,  who  was  the  first  to  meet  Jesus  after  his 
resurrection.  He  ran  to  Mary  with  the  joyful 
news,  but  she  could  not,  would  not,  believe  him, 
and  sent  him  back  to  Jesus  to  better  ascertain  it. 
St.  John  ran  back  to  Jesus,  then  came  once  more 
to  Mary,  to  assure  her  it  was  indeed  He  risen,  and 
invited  her  to  come  and  see  for  herself. 

This  is  the  explanation  of  St.  John's  mysterious 
goings  and  comings,  and  of  his  whispering  behind 
the  curtain. 

When  at  last  the  Madonna  was  convinced,  a 
subdued  thrill  of  joy  floated  through  the  crowd,  her 
black  veil  was  taken  ofl*,  her  arch  of  verdure  was 
pulled  down,  and  she  moved  to  meet  Jesus,  who,  in 


LENT  AND  EASTER  95 

His  turn,  surrounded  by  the  priests  and  "  brothers," 
emerged  from  His  arch  and  walked  down  towards 
her,  the  big  drums  beating  away,  one  on  each  side. 

In  the  middle  of  the  piazza  the  much-expected 
incontro  (meeting)  took  place,  the  most  comical 
and  puerile  performance  1  ever  witnessed.  When 
the  two  wooden  figures  were  face  to  face,  the 
bearers  stopped,  and  made  them  bow  ceremoniously 
three  times  to  each  other,  the  crowd  looking  on 
enthusiastically — there  was  joy  in  every  counte- 
nance. 

The  bows  were  all  the  more  ludicrous  from  the 
fact  that  Mary's  effigy  was  at  least  three  times 
larger  than  that  of  Jesus. 

After  the  bows,  they  had  an  attempt  at  em- 
bracing. The  effigy  of  Christ  approached  its  face 
to  the  Madonna's,  their  wooden  cheeks  knocked 
against  each  other,  and  Christ's  little  red  flag  got 
entangled  in  the  complicated  arches  of  the  Madonna's 
crown,  nearly  pulling  it  down ;  at  that  solemn 
moment  the  crowd,  who  had  looked  on  in  a  breath- 
less silence  of  joyful  suspense,  all  shouted  "  Evviva  /" 
(Hurrah  I). 

This  greeting  ceremony  happily  over,  the  figures 
were  placed  side  by  side,  and  walked  down  together, 
the  drum  and  priests  in  front,  all  the  crowd  behind. 


96         SICILIAN  WAYS  AND  DAYS 

and  the  strange  couple  marched  thus  all  round  the 
village — this  being  the  last  and  not  least  heathenish 
performance  of  the  elaborate  Lenten  and  Easter 
ceremonies. 

I  lost  sight  of  them  as  they  turned  round  the 
corner,  the  Madonna  leaning  perilously  over  on  one 
side,  the  lighter  and  smaller  figure  of  Jesus  skipping 
jauntily  up  and  down,  all  noises  drowned  in  the 
deafening  drums,  all  the  shrouded  women  keeping 
close  to  their  beloved  and  gaudy  Madonna,  some 
of  them  holding  up  their  babies  to  look  at  her  as 
she  passed. 


I 


ST.  JOHN."    (Page  94.) 


THE  "INCONTRO."    (Page  95.) 


To/ace  2iage  96. 


CHRISTENING  CUSTOMS 

What  strikes  me  most  in  the  christening  cere- 
monies and  customs  out  here  is  the  complete 
eKmination  of  the  child  as  the  godchild  of  his  god- 
father, to  the  advantage  of  his  own  father  and 
mother. 

On  the  occasion  of  his  christening — I  speak  of 
the  lower  classes  always — the  child  does  not  acquire 
a  godfather,  but  rather  his  own  father  enters  on  a 
strong  bond  of  friendship  with  the  godfather  which 
will  last  for  their  lives. 

When  a  man  has  asked  a  friend,  a  relation, 
sometimes  his  own  brother,  to  "  christen  his  child  " 
— this  is  the  right  expression — the  two  become 
comparL  The  English  word  compeer  does  not  give 
at  all  the  high  meaning  of  the  Sicilian  compare,  to 
which  are  always  added  the  words  San  Giovanni  in 
the  case  of  a  christening  compare,  to  distinguish 
him  from  the  cresima  (confirmation)  compare,  when 
no  saint  is  mentioned. 

97  7 


98         SICILIAN  WAYS  AND  DAYS 

Thus,  if  a  man  says,  "  I  am  compare  San 
Giovanni  with  Peppe,"  this  means  that  they  are 
friends  for  ever,  and  will  always  help  and  respect 
each  other;  indeed,  to  speak  lightly  of  this  San 
Giovanni  relationship  is  considered  as  little  less 
than  a  blasphemy. 

Another  peculiarity  of  this  San  Giovanni  relation- 
ship is  that  the  two  compafi  henceforth,  in  speaking 
to  each  other,  will  have  to  adopt  the  more  respect- 
ful form  of  speech  voi  (you),  even  if,  owing  to  their 
previous  intimacy,  or  to  the  fact  of  their  being 
brothers  or  cousins,  they  had,  up  to  that  day,  used 
in  speaking  to  each  other  the  more  intimate  pro- 
noun tu  (thou).  This  is  a  sign  of  mutual  respect, 
and  it  is  most  comical  to  hear,  for  instance,  two 
brothers,  when  the  one  has  "  christened  "  the  other's 
child,  addressing  each  other  no  more  by  their 
names,  but  as  compare,  and  using  the  formal  voi 
instead  of  the  familiar  tu. 

The  compact  or  bond  of  friendship  which  now 
ties  them  to  each  other  is  very  important  indeed, 
and  the  greatest  argument  a  man  can  oppose  to 
anyone  who  urges  him  to  go  against  another  is 
when  he  can  answer :  "  Against  Peppe  ?  Why, 
he  is  my  compare  San  Giovanni ;  impossible  I"  And 
sometimes  I  have  heard  someone  say :  "  I  will  ask 


CHRISTENING  CUSTOMS  99 

this  favour  of  compare  Turiddu  ;  he  cannot  refuse 
me,  for  he  is  my  compare  San  Giovanni,'' 

To  the  child  he  is,  and  remains,  absolutely 
nothing;  he  does  not  take  any  interest  in  its 
future  welfare,  except  the  general  interest  he 
would  take  in  all  his  compare's  children,  and  the 
total  absence  of  relationship  between  godfather  and 
godchild  is  also  to  be  found  in  the  choice  of  the 
child's  name.  No  one  would  dream  of  giving  to 
a  child  the  name  of  his  godfather,  there  being 
already  an  established  custom  of  giving  to  the  first- 
born the  name  of  its  paternal  grandfather  or  grand- 
mother, and  to  the  second-born  the  name  of  its 
maternal  grandfather  or  grandmother;  but  if  one 
or  both  of  the  latter  were  already  dead  at  the  birth 
of  the  first-born,  their  names — as  an  exception — 
would  be  chosen  in  this  case.  I  know  a  family  of 
three  brothers  and  two  sisters  whose  father's  name 
was  Enrico.  They  all  married,  and  all  gave  to  the 
first  boy  the  name  of  Enrico  ;  but  what  is  worse  is 
that  the  three  cousins  Enrico,  sons  of  three  brothers, 

\      all  bear  the  same  surname,  with  a  very  confusing 
result. 

I  The  christening  takes  place  generally  as  soon  as 

the  mother  is  up  and  about  again,  which  happens 
very  often  five  or  six  days  after  the  birth. 

7—2 


100       SICILIAN  WAYS  AND  DAYS 

The  father  has  already  asked  his  best  friend, 
sometimes  his  own  brother  or  cousin,  to  become 
his  compare,  and  as  a  rule  the  offer  is  not  to  be 
declined  on  any  account. 

There  is  no  godmother,  for  this  would  imply 
a  free  and  pleasing  state  of  cordiality  between 
people  of  different  sexes,  which  is  set  down  as 
simply  sinful  here ;  but  in  the  case  of  a  girl,  there 
is  one  in  the  person  of  the  wife,  the  Jiancee,  or  the 
sister  of  the  godfather,  so  that  les  convenances  are 
saved. 

The  child's  mother,  however,  becomes  the  god- 
father's coT/xmar^,  just  as  her  husband  is  his  compare, 
and  she  gets  the  best  of  the  bargain,  for  the  presents 
are  all  for  he?-. 

In  the  becter  classes,  when  a  man  has  been 
asked  to  stand  as  godfather  to  a  child,  he  may 
remember  to  buy  him  a  silver  fork  and  spoon,  and, 
perhaps,  a  mug,  but  this  is  often  overlooked ;  the 
first  thought  is  to  buy  a  ring,  bracelet,  watch,  or 
brooch  for  the  child's  mother,  his  new  commare, 
and  the  present  must  be  as  costly  as  his  means  will 
allow  him. 

In  the  poorer  classes  the  compai^e  offers  to  his 
commare  a  cheap  article  of  sham  jewellery,  five  or 
six  pounds  of  maccheroni,  biscuits,  ground  coffee. 


,  5   »       •• 


'   1   ',  •     » 


"I  AM  'COMPARE  SAN  GIOVANNI    WITH  PEPPE."    (Page  JS.) 


HE  AND  I  ARE  'COMPARI  SAN  GIOVANNI!'"    (Page  108.) 


To  face  page  100. 


CHRISTENING  CUSTOMS         101 

and  three  bottles  of  wine.  Any  present  to  the 
child  in  this  class  is  an  uncommon  occurrence,  but 
sometimes,  as  an  exception,  if  it  is  a  girl,  the 
compare  brings  her  a  pair  of  httle  earrings  or  a 
tiny  ring. 

I  have  sometimes  seen  a  baby  in  arms  with 
a  little  gold  ring  on  her  chubby  finger,  and  heard 
that  this  was  a  gift  from  her  godfather. 

The  christening  ceremony  takes  place  as  follows  : 
The  father  and  the  godfather,  with  their  friends, 
the  two  former  dressed  in  their  very  best  clothes, 
with  dazzling  white  shirts  and  resplendent  ties, 
collect  in  front  of  the  church,  and  there  wait  for 
the  child  and  its  feminine  escort. 

By-and-by  appears  a  little  girl  carrying  a  spotless 
towel  over  her  arm,  and  holding  carefully  a  decanter 
of  water.  This  will  be  used  for  the  christening,  as 
the  Church  is  not  expected  to  provide  it,*  and  the 
towel  is  to  wipe  the  priest's  hands ;  a  specially 
soft,  lace-trimmed  handkerchief  is  brought  by  the 
women  to  wipe  the  baby's  head. 

Half  a  minute  after  this  little  water-and-towel- 
bearer  has  passed,  the  christening  procession  comes 

^  I  have  been  at  smart  christenings  in  the  cathedral  at 
Palermo,  and  when  the  carriages  drew  up  in  front,  saw  that  one 
of  the  party  was  a  white-aproned  servant  carrying  a  decanter 
of  water ! 


102       SICILIAN  WAYS  AND  DAYS 

majestically  round  the  corner,  and  as  I  sit  in  front 
of  our  casino  to  watch  all  that  goes  on,  I  get  a  full 
view  of  it ;  unfortunately,  I  have  never  been  able 
to  snapshot  one,  as  christenings  always  take  place 
at  sunset. 

The  baby  is  decked  out  in  the  smartest  robe 
the  parents  can  afford  to  buy,  often  ordering 
it  from  the  big  shops  in  Palermo ;  the  local 
ideal  of  smartness  is  set  forth  in  the  liberal 
display  of  little  artificial  flowers  with  which  the  cap 
and  robe  are  plentifully  adorned.  Artificial  flowers 
on  a  new-born  babe  will  sound  strange,  but  they  are 
a  fact  here. 

The  baby  is  supposed  to  be  carried  by  the  mid- 
wife, but  I  have  noticed  that,  as  a  rule,  they  make 
a  little  girl — sister,  cousin,  or  aunt  of  the  baby — 
carry  it,  and  she  is  sometimes  so  small  that  she 
disappears  under  the  baby's  gorgeous  christening 
toilette. 

She  walks  in  front,  looking  highly  pleased  with 
herself,  and,  in  spite  of  her  voluminous  bundle, 
manages  to  keep  her  shawl  on  her  head  ;  behind  her 
walk  a  compact  group  of  women,  the  most  impor- 
tant of  whom — the  midwife  and  the  mother,  if  she 
is  there — walk  in  front ;  but  very  often  the  mother 
remains  at  home,  where  she  is  supposed  to  prepare 


CHRISTENING  CUSTOMS         103 

the  refreshments.  If  she  goes  to  the  church,  she 
wears  her  beautiful  silk  wedding-dress  and  shawl ; 
the  midwife  is  also  draped  in  a  gorgeous  shawl,  and 
all  the  women  who  follow  wear  over  the  head  a 
bright  silk  shawl  or  black  cloth  mantellina,  accord- 
ing to  the  social  position  of  their  husbands,  since 
only  tradesmen's  wives  and  daughters  wear  shawls, 
the  women-folk  of  peasants  and  miners  being 
restricted  to  the  black  cloth  inantellina, 

I  have  witnessed  a  few  christenings  in  church, 
and,  I  am  sorry  to  say,  have  been  more  amused 
than  edified. 

As  soon  as  the  procession  has  entered  the  church 
the  men  who  were  waiting  outside  come  in  too,  the 
two  compari  standing  close  together. 

A  friend  of  the  father  immediately  begins  dis- 
tributing long  thin  tapers  to  all  present,  and  this 
generally  causes  some  confusion,  as  the  crowd  of 
ragamuffins  who  follow  the  procession  into  the 
church  clamour  loudly  for  tapers,  too,  and  try 
hard  to  grab  at  them,  in  spite  of  the  taper-dis- 
penser holding  the  bunch  high  up  in  the  air ;  he 
remonstrates  with  them,  however,  and  in  desperate 
cases  administers  kicks  and  boxes  on  the  ear. 

In  the  midst  of  this  confusion  and  of  lighting 
and  holding  up  of  tapers — the  richer  the  family,  the 


104       SICILIAN  WAYS  AND  DAYS 

more  numerous  they  are — the  priest  near  the  font 
calmly  adjusts  his  surplice  and  lace  cuiFs,  and  the 
women  crowd  gleefully  about  him,  the  men  form- 
ing an  outer  circle  and  keeping  the  ragamuffins  at 
a  distance. 

After  a  few  dogs  have  been  kicked  out  of  the 
church,  the  band — when  the  father  can  afford  it — 
begins  to  play  loudly  in  the  church,  and  goes  on 
playing  till  the  end  of  the  ceremony ;  in  most 
cases,  however,  the  music  is  provided  by  the 
rickety  organ,  on  which  the  organist  shows  off  the 
liveliest  opera  airs  he  can  remember,  with  his  own 
variations. 

The  priest,  in  drowsy,  hurried  mumbling,  reads 
out  the  whole  service  in  Latin,  to  which  an  acolyte 
gives  the  responses  in  loud,  spasmodic  tone ;  the 
band  or  organ  completely  covers  their  voices,  and 
no  one  takes  any  notice  or  follows  it  in  any  way. 

He  goes  through  the  formality  of  asking  the 
godfather  whether  he  can  say  the  Credo  and  the 
Paternostro,  a  question  which  is  always  answered  in 
the  affirmative,  although  very  often  a  negative 
would  be  more  in  harmony  with  truth.  Then,  as 
is  customary,  he  puts  salt  in  the  child's  mouth  and 
palms,  and  oil  on  the  forehead,  which  is  immediately 
wiped  away  by  the  midwife ;  then  the  baby's  cap  is 


'.'..••< 


THE  BLACK  CLOTH  "MANTELLINA. 
(Page  103.) 


'TRADESMEN'S  WIVES  AND  DAUGHTERS  WEAR  SHAWLS." 
(Page  103.) 


To  face  page  104. 


CHRISTENING  CUSTOMS         105 

removed,  and  the  priest  christens  it,  taking  up  the 
water  in  the  font  with  a  beautiful  silver  ladle,  a 
real  antique ;  and  a  great  fuss  is  indulged  in  next 
by  all  the  women  to  wipe  the  baby's  head,  for  fear 
of  its  catching  cold. 

The  priest  then  wiipes  his  hand  with  the  towel 
brought  for  that  purpose  in  a  calm,  business-like 
manner,  and  walks  away  unconcernedly  towards 
the  sacristy,  beginning  to  take  off  his  things  before 
he  is  out  of  the  church. 

In  the  meantime  the  christening  party  sets  to  put- 
ting out  each  other's  tapers ;  the  women  tie  on  the 
baby's  cap  again,  admire  it — the  baby — congratulate 
the  mother  on  its  and  her  good  looks,  ask  her  if  she 
has  plenty  of  milk,  and  so  on,  whilst  the  two 
compari  stand  apart,  solemnly  silent,  looking  as 
self-conscious  as  they  can. 

Presently  they  all  leave  the  church  and  walk  in 
two  processions,  the  women  first,  and,  a  little 
behind,  the  men. 

In  very  poor  families  it  is  the  custom  not  to 
provide  any  refreshments  for  the  women,  and  the 
men  alone  go  to  a  favourite  tavern,  where  the  two 
compari  vie  with  each  other  in  offering  wine  to 
their  friends ;  but  when  the  family  can  afford  it, 
they  all  meet  at  the  father's  house,  and  there  partake 


106       SICILIAN  WAYS  AND  DAYS 

of  the  humble  refreshments  provided,  the  men 
huddhng  together  in  one  room,  the  women  in  the 
other,  or,  in  the  general  case  of  a  one-roomed  house, 
the  two  sexes  standing  as  far  apart  as  the  walls  will 
allow  ! 

I  have  mentioned  the  refreshments  offered  at 
bridal  entertainments.  The  christening  ones  are 
just  the  same  :  stale  biscuits,  bonbons  tasting  of 
dust,  and,  to  drink,  the  inevitable  sickly  Hquor 
called  rosolio,  or  the  cheapest  Marsala  that  can  be 
got,  which  is  little  better. 

They  go  by  a  strange  standard  of  etiquette  here 
at  these  entertainments :  when  the  tray  goes 
round,  and  the  guests  each  take  a  glass  of  rosolio,  it 
is  not  supposed  to  be  good  manners  to  drink  it  all. 
The  correct  thing  is  to  take  a  little  sip  gingerly,  as 
if  you  did  not  care  for  it — which  is  always  true  in 
my  case — and  when  the  tray  comes  round  again,  put 
down  on  it  the  glass,  still  nearly  full.  The  master 
of  the  house  then  calmly  fills  up  all  the  glasses  once 
more,  and  sends  the  tray  on  a  second  course  round 
the  room,  the  guests  each  taking  up  a  glass  again 
at  random,  to  have  another  gingerly  sip,  no  one 
dreaming  of  recognizing  his  own  glass.  That,  I 
found,  was  the  most  unpleasant  part  of  the  business. 
However,  I  did  not  suffer  through  it,  as  I  never 


CHRISTENING  CUSTOMS         107 

went  in  for  the  second  sip,  finding  the  first  quite 
enough. 

The  newly- christened  babe  has  his  own  refresh- 
ments served  out  to  him  by  his  mother,  a  crowd  of 
gaping,  gushing  women  standing  round  and  discuss- 
ing the  various  incidents  and  contretemps  which 
characterized  its  birth.  The  men  whisper  to  each 
other,  and  the  two  compari  stand  together  in 
dignified  silence,  steadfast  in  their  resolution  to  be 
henceforth  all  in  all  to  each  other,  and  never  neglect 
an  opportunity  of  serving  or  assisting  each  other 
as  long  as  they  live.  This  thought  haunts  the 
compare's  mind  much  more  than  any  interest  in  the 
baby  he  has  just  "  christened." 

*  *  *  *  * 

When  the  municipal  elections  were  forthcoming 
one  year,  and  my  people  were  canvassing  for  them, 
they  heard  that  a  man  named  Carminu,  who  had 
always  been  one  of  our  most  loyal  electors,  was 
rumoured  to  have  become  rather  shaky.  It  was 
darkly  hinted  that  he  had  been  heard  to  imply 
covertly  that  he  would  vote  for  the  other  side. 

This  was  a  very  bad  look-out,  as  in  a  place  where 
the  electors  do  not  reach  the  number  of  three 
hundred  one  defection  is  an  important  matter. 

I  heard  my  people  discussing  this  serious  business 


108       SICILIAN  WAYS  AND  DAYS 

with  one  of  our  men,  sounding  him  as  to  what 
would  be  the  best  means  of  bringing  back  the  lost 
sheep  to  the  fold,  when  my  friend  Alessandro 
happened  to  pass — for  of  course  this  discussion  was 
taking  place  on  the  piazza,  near  the  casino — so  they 
called  him. 

"  Here,  Alessandro,  do  you  hear  this  ?  Carminu 
seems  not  to  be  too  sure  of  himself  just  now,  and 
not  having  had  a  piece  of  land  granted  him,  which 
he  had  set  his  heart  upon,  told  his  wife  he  did  not 
know  which  way  the  wind  would  blow  this  year. 
What  is  to  be  done  ?" 

Alessandro  turned  away  his  Dante-like  profile, 
and  said  with  studied  indifference  : 

"  Don't  think  of  it  any  more  ;  Carminu  will  learn 
which  way  the  wind  blows,  and  will  walk  arm  in 
arm  with  me  to  the  election  poll." 

My  people,  used  to  the  ways  and  imaginative 
speeches  of  these  men,  seemed  satisfied,  and  walked 
away,  but  I  called  back  Alessandro  and  said  to  him: 

"  What  is  your  secret  power  over  Carminu  that 
you  can  make  him  vote  as  you  like  ?" 

"  I  should  like  to  see  him  resist  me,"  said  Ales- 
sandro, with  a  laugh  at  my  innocence  ;  '*  he  and  I 
are  compari  San  Griovanni  /" 


LUNCH  AT  SERRADIFALCO 

The  other  day  we  drove  to  Serradifalco  on  some 
business  ;  I  was  very  glad  of  the  opportunity  of 
inspecting  that  little  town,  of  which  I  only  had  a 
gUmpse  the  day  we  arrived,  as  we  passed  it  on  our 
way  from  the  station. 

Two  men  to  escort  us — for  we  might  have  met 
brigands — followed  the  carriage  on  horseback,  both 
interesting  and  typical  Sicilians.  The  one  tall  and 
stout,  with  a  grizzly  beard,  fustian  suit,  and  top- 
boots  ;  his  name  is  Mastru  Federico.  The  other 
was  my  friend  Alessandro,  thin,  tall,  close-shaven, 
very  like  Dante's  portraits.  He  is  a  most  intellec- 
tual talker,  for  he  has  read  a  good  deal,  and  con- 
tinually quotes  the  Italian  classics,  which  he  knows 
by  heart. 

Both  held  their  loaded  rifles  in  front  of  them 
across  the  saddle  and  trotted,  one  on  each  side  of 
the  carriage,  thus  giving  a  certain  piquancy  to  the 
expedition,  whilst  Alessandro  enlivened  the  mono- 

109 


110       SICILIAN  WAYS  AND  DAYS 

tony  of  the  long  drive  by  quoting  Dante  and  Tasso 
at  every  turning,  and  entering  with  us  upon  most 
interesting  philological  discussions. 

The  ten  kilometres  which  separate  us  from 
Serradifalco  were  thus  agreeably  covered,  and  upon 
arriving  at  that  small  place,  I  examined  the  inn 
where  we  put  up.  Above  the  entrance  was  a 
collection  of  most  heterogeneous  articles,  hanging 
in  a  row  from  an  iron  bar.  First  of  all,  a  dangling 
decanter  of  amber-coloured  wine  showed  it  was  an 
inn ;  near  it  a  few  potatoes  hung  close  to  some 
maccheroni  pointed  out  the  fact  that  eatables  were 
sold  here ;  then  a  shirt-front  and  collar  floating  in  the 
breeze,  close  to  a  red  scarf,  proclaimed  the  fact  of  its 
being  a  haberdashery  ;  a  leather  belt  ended  the  row. 

After  a  good  look  at  this  strange  and  novel  sign- 
board, we  went  in. 

On  one  side  was  the  counter,  where  eatables  and 
haberdashery  were  sold ;  they  were  displayed  in 
glass  cases  against  the  walls. 

On  a  shiny  brass  counter  opposite  wine  was  dis- 
pensed, and  water,  too,  for  Sicilians  drink  a  great 
deal  of  it,  and  for  this  purpose  use  large  tumblers 
containing  a  pint. 

A  large,  resplendent  brass  basin  served  to  rinse 
glasses.     Behind  it  was  suspended  a  savings-bank. 


«j  J  •  •    • 


» 


ALESSANDRO'S  DANTE-LIKE  PROFILE. 
(Page  108.) 


SERRADIFALCO.    (Page  109.) 


To  face  page  110. 


LUNCH  AT  SERRADIFALCO       111 

shaped  as  a  small  amphora,  with  a  slit  in  it,  where 
generous  drinkers  deposited  their  small  offerings  to 
St.  Joseph,  a  most  popular  saint  here,  whose  picture, 
in  gaudy  colours,  was  stuck  against  the  small 
amphora. 

Near  the  counter  was  the  large  dowry-chest 
{cassa  dotale)  of  carved  wood  possessed  by  most 
Sicilian  couples  of  the  lower  classes,  and  which 
contains  the  wardrobe  of  the  whole  family.  Close 
to  it  a  baby  rocked  himself  in  a  small  rocking  arm- 
chair, in  which  he  was  securely  fastened. 

A  door  at  the  back  of  the  shop  led  into  a  large 
room,  where  cooking  went  on,  where  men  sat  down 
to  eat  and  drink,  and  where  the  innkeeper  and  family 
slept  at  night  in  a  large  bed. 

The  innkeeper,  a  good-looking,  well-shaven, 
neatly-got-up  young  fellow,  who  had  the  appear- 
ance of  a  smart  coachman  and  the  manners  of  a 
gentleman,  did  the  honours  with  his  wife,  who  had 
black,  almond-shaped  eyes,  a  gracious  smile,  gold 
rings  as  large  as  bangles  hanging  from  her  ears, 
and  a  black  handkerchief  gay  with  red  and  yellow 
flowers  arranged  at  the  back  of  her  head  and  float- 
ing down  her  shoulders  in  artistic  folds. 

Distinguished  people  like  us  could  not  lunch  in 
the  kitchen-bedroom. 


112       SICILIAN  WAYS  AND  DAYS 

They  took  us  upstairs  into  a  very  clean  room 
with  two  beds  in  it.  The  mattresses — as  usual 
here — were  rolled  up  at  the  head,  and  were  covered 
with  the  neatly-folded  sheets  and  counterpane,  the 
whole  pyramid  being  finished  off  with  the  two 
pillows,  smart  with  lace  and  spotlessly  white. 

The  mattresses  of  Sicilian  beds  are  generally  laid 
upon  three  green  boards,  so  that  when,  during  the 
day,  they  are  rolled  up,  that  portion  of  the  boards 
which  remains  uncovered  does  good  service  as  a 
table.  In  poor  people's  houses  they  make  the  bread 
there.     As  Goldsmith  says  : 

"  The  bed  contrived  a  double  debt  to  pay — 
A  bed  by  night,  a  chest  of  drawers  by  day." 

Further  inspection  round  the  room  showed  me 
a  tall,  marble-topped  chest  of  drawers  adorned 
with  a  grand  display  of  cups — twenty-four,  I  think 
— and  a  grey  marble  washing-stand  and  mirror, 
completely  shrouded  in  a  red  gauze  veil  to  keep 
off  the  flies. 

In  the  middle  stood  the  table  with  covers  laid 
for  us.  The  innkeeper  waited  on  us  with  the  air 
of  a  disguised  prince,  and  put  down  the  dishes  on 
the  bed-boards.  Lunch  was  good,  but  odd.  We 
had  several  courses,  beginning  with  salame,  stuffed 
artichokes,   greens,   tough    chops,    French    beans, 


Al.ESSANDRO.      (Page  109.) 


■MASTRU"  FEDERICO.    (Page  109.) 


To  Jace  page  112. 


LUNCH  AT  SERRADIFALCO       113 

lettuce,  cheese,  all  served  and  eaten  at  random, 
without  system,  but  with  perfect  wine  from 
Syracuse. 

After  this  queer  lunch  we  took  a  short  walk  out 
of  the  place,  ascending  the  hill  on  the  outskirts 
of  the  village,  where  a  stone  terrace  and  black 
wood  cross  have  given  it  the  name  of  the  Calvary, 
as  on  Good  Friday  the  ceremony  of  the  Crucifixion 
is  performed  here. 

Coming  down  again,  we  went  to  inspect  a  quaint 
little  shop  where,  as  I  passed  it,  I  had  had  visions 
of  native  pottery.  There  an  amateur  could  have 
rummaged  about,  and  for  a  few  pence  become  the 
happy  owner  of  tall,  two-handled,  Greek-looking 
pitchers,  of  small  miners'  lamps  of  antique  shape, 
which  all  looked  as  if  they  had  come  straight  from 
Pompeii. 

I  made  my  choice  amongst  all  these  treasures, 
whilst  a  small  crowd  collected  around  the  entrance 
to  enjoy  the  surprising  sight  of  a  lady  buying 
cose  da  villani  (things  for  the  peasants),  though 
I  must  say  that  the  shopkeeper  took  advantage 
of  my  eccentric  tastes  to  charge  us  prices  which 
were  certainly  not  peasants'  prices. 

On  our  way  back  to  the  inn  we  passed  a  quaint 
old  fountain  where  women  were  filling  their  tall 

8 


114       SICILIAN  WAYS  AND  DAYS 

pitchers,  and  they  all  stared  wonderingly  at  me 
as  I  went  about  with  my  companions  taking 
photographs.  Their  astonishment  is  not  to  be 
wondered  at  in  a  country  where  the  most  inde- 
pendent action  a  lady  can  indulge  in  is  going  to 
church  wrapped  from  head  to  feet  in  a  large  shawl, 
never  alone,  but  under  the  strict  surveillance  of 
her  own  servant. 

As  I  was  about  to  get  into  the  carriage  with  my 
pottery,  the  innkeeper  drew  near  and  said  with 
dignity,  "  Bacio  la  mano  "  (I  kiss  your  hand),  and 
his  wife,  with  a  smiling  countenance,  added, 
"  Voscenza  benedicaT  (Your  Excellence,  bless  us  !); 
and  as,  thinking  of  something  suitable  to  say,  I 
expressed  a  wish  to  come  back  soon,  she  answered, 
"  Se  Dio  vuoUr  (God  permitting !) 

The  drive  back  in  the  setting  sun  was  charming. 
Our  men,  being  in  a  hurry  to  reach  Montedoro 
before  night,  did  not  show  any  inclination  to  talk, 
and  almost  without  speaking  we  drove  back  in  the 
deep  silence  of  the  wide  plains  and  hills,  to  which 
the  waning  rays  gave  a  warm  tint.  And  in  the 
great  solitary  peace  of  those  wide  cornfields  the 
sky  seemed  deeper,  the  light  softer,  the  heart 
lighter. 


•    t  »•  »  •   »  » 


»  t  *;  .    • 


"  WOMEN  WERE  FILLING  THEIR  TALL  PITCHERS."     (Page  113.) 

To  face  page  114 


HARVEST 

On  Ascension  Day,  when  the  noble  expanse  of 
rounded  hills  and  broad  plains  around  Montedoro 
is  tinged  in  one  glorious  hue  of  gold,  the  heavy 
ears  of  corn  bending  their  heads  under  the 
weight  of  the  ripe  grain,  a  poetic  ceremony  takes 
place. 

In  the  fresh,  early  dawn,  before  the  summer 
glare  has  begun  to  pour  torrents  of  fire  on  the  hills 
and  plains,  the  Vicar,  in  his  surplice,  followed  by 
most  of  the  villagers,  walks  to  the  top  of  a  hill, 
from  where,  in  a  sweeping  glance,  he  can  see  far 
and  near,  and  look  on  all  the  fields  of  ripe  golden 
corn — the  one  hope  and  fortune  of  these  poor 
people ;  and  there,  raising  his  right  arm,  whilst  an 
acolyte  shakes  an  incense-burner,  he  blesses  the 
whole  country  round,  and  asks  for  God's  help  and 
protection  during  the  now  impending  harvest 
season. 

The  arcadian  beauty  and  simplicity  of  this  out- 

115  8—2 


116       SICILIAN  WAYS  AND  DAYS 

door  service  cannot  be  described,  and  it  is  one  of 
the  most  striking  of  the  harvest  customs. 

At  this  time  the  reapers  arrive  in  the  village, 
and  stand  about  in  the  big  piazza,  "  awaiting  to  be 
hired,"  as  in  the  time  of  the  Gospel  parable. 

They  come  from  some  other  province  in  search 
of  the  harvest  work,  which,  comparatively  speaking, 
is  well  paid. 

They  are  strongly  built,  dark-complexioned  men, 
all  close  shaven,  with  the  small  scythe  over  the 
shoulder,  and  a  red  handkerchief  tied  about  the 
head. 

The  people  whose  corn  is  ready  to  be  reaped 
hire  a  certain  number  of  these  men,  and  next 
morning  at  daybreak,  after  an  invocation  to  San 
Calogero,  they  set  to  work. 

They  cut  down  armfuls  of  corn,  standing  in  long 
rows  of  from  twelve  to  thirty  men,  according  to 
the  width  of  the  field.  They  all  advance  together, 
and  when,  after  three  or  four  cuts,  the  armful  of 
corn  is  large  enough,  it  is  placed  on  one  of  the 
various  heaps  scattered  about  the  reaped  field ; 
each  of  these  sheaves  is  next  tied  firmly  round 
with  a  long  cord  of  grass  specially  prepared  for 
this  by  a  workman  who  does  nothing  else,  and  is 
called  the  ligatore. 


THE  CALVARY.    (Page  113.) 


ASCENSION  DAY  CELEBRATION.    (Page  115.) 


To  face  page  116, 


HARVEST  117 

I  asked  for  information  as  to  the  salary  these 
harvest-men  receive  for  working  in  the  blazing 
sunshine  from  daybreak  till  sunset,  and  as  to  their 
food,  and  was  told  that  one  of  the  two  following 
arrangements  was  generally  adopted  : 

By  the  first,  these  men  get  2  to  3  francs 
a  day — a  great  deal  for  a  Sicihan  peasant — and 
have  to  provide  their  own  food. 

By  the  second  arrangement  they  are  paid 
1  -50  francs  a  day,  and  their  food  and  wine  is  found 
for  them  by  their  employer.  This  food  means  a 
short  meal  every  two  hours,  consisting  of  bread 
and  cheese,  or  salt  curds  and  whey,  or  pickled 
olives,  or  boiled  potatoes,  with  a  pull  at  the 
earthenware  wine-bottle.  When  the  day's  work 
is  over  they  get  their  principal  meal  at  their 
employer's  house,  and  this  is  merely  a  large  dish 
of  inaccheroni  or  lasagne,  with  wine  and  bread. 

This  is  the  food  and  salary  for  which  these  men 
will  stand  the  tropical  heat  of  June  all  through 
the  long  summer  day  under  a  fiery  sky.* 

After  their  evening  meal  they  all  gather  into  the 
big  village  square,  lie  down  on  the  bare  ground,  and 

*  Owing  to  the  constant  emigration  of  Sicilians  to  America, 
the  few  workmen  now  left  in  the  island  expect,  and  receive,  a 
much  higher  salary  during  harvest. 


118       SICILIAN  WAYS  AND  DAYS 

sleep  there  through  the  short  summer  night,  in  the 
cool  starlight,  ready  to  take  up  their  work  once 
more  at  daybreak. 

During  the  first  days  of  harvest-time,  the  men 
who  have  not  yet  found  work  pass  the  evening 
dancing  to  the  music  of  a  primitive,  arcadian  little 
flute,  made  of  a  reed,  with  a  very  sweet  sound. 

Once  they  have  found  work  they  give  up  the 
evening  dance,  being  too  tired  to  think  of  it. 
«  «  *  *  ^ 

One  evening  we  went  into  one  of  our  fields  to 
see  them  reaping,  and  arrived  when  the  wide  hill- 
top was  almost  done.  The  reapers  wore  a  leather 
apron  to  protect  their  clothes,  and  the  usual  bright 
red  handkerchief  tightly  bound  about  the  head. 

As  they  advanced,  reaping  the  tall  yellow  corn, 
looking  black  and  sunburnt,  they  chanted  prayers 
and  songs — a  most  touching  practice,  meant  to 
shorten  the  working  hours  of  the  never-ending 
June  day. 

These  are  the  words  of  the  first  part  of  the 
chanting,  which  I  was  able  to  jot  down  as  they 
sang,  each  reaper  singing  one  verse  at  a  time  when 
his  turn  came : 

"  Let  us  praise  and  thank  the  most  holy  Sacrament. 

"  The  most  holy  Sacrament  be  praised,  with  Joseph  and  Mary. 


•  •  •. : 


•.••■•••*• » 


RIPE,  GOLDEN  CORN.     (Page  115.) 


'  »Wi,  ,fr..  -  l^ 


THEY  ALL  ADVANCE  TOGETHER."    (Page  110.) 


To  face  page  IIS. 


HARVEST  119 

"  Look  out,  comrades,  for  God  is  passing,  and  when  He  passes. 
He  passes  for  all. 

"  Let  hell  tremble  when  it  hears  Mary,  and  the  Names  of  Jesus 
and  Mary  be  blessed. 

"  Let  us  praise  St.  Joseph  immaculate,  who  must  give  us  grace 
and  strength  to  live  and  work  through  this  holy  day. 

"  Look  out,  comrade,  and  prepare  harmony,  for  the  Lord  is 
passing  me  just  now. 

"  And  for  ever  let  His  holy  Name  be  praised. 

"  Look  out,  O  reaper,  for  the  Lord  is  passing,  and  when  He 
passes.  He  passes  for  all. 

"Look  out,  comrades,  for  the  Lord  is  passing,  and  when  He 
passes.  He  leaves  us  His  grace. 

"  When  the  bell  rings,  Jesus  calls  us  all. 

"  Come  quickly ;  do  not  delay,  for  He  wants  to  forgive  thee." 

They  next  sang  all  together,  on  a  drowsy  melody 
in  a  minor  key,  the  following  stanzas  : 

"  Holy  Barbara,  pure  little  virgin. 
Who  camest  like  a  banner  from  heaven. 
When  the  sea  was  in  a  storm. 
The  sailor  started  praying, 
On  the  Saturday  of  that  beautiful  feast, 
For  the  fair  name  of  the  much-loved  Mary. 

"  O  consecrated  Host,  our  Redeemer, 
Monarch  of  the  holy  Passion, 
Three  fine  saints  and  three  fine  figures 
Are  in  Paradise ;  there  is  corn  and  sunshine. 
Let  us  praise  the  holy  Sacrament, 
And  long  live  Mary's  miracles  ! 

"  O  little  priest,  how  worthy  you  are  ! 
For  every  morning  you  communicate. 
You  divide  a  wafer  in  three  parts. 
And  consecrate  one  of  the  three  ; 


120       SICILIAN  WAYS  AND  DAYS 

And  with  three  holy  words  that  you  say, 
The  court  and  the  Divinity  come  down. 
Let  US  praise  the  holy  Sacrament, 
And  long  live  Mary  of  the  Rosary  ! 

"  I  saw  a  cloudlet  on  the  sea ; 
It  made  a  bridge,  and  darkened  the  sun. 
However  beautiful  is  San  Pasquale, 
Mary  is  still  more  beautiful. 
Three  little  virgins  can  do  and  undo — 
Mary,  St.  Joseph,  and  the  Lord. 
Let  us  praise  in  every  moment 
The  most  holy  Sacrament ! 

"  I  raised  my  eyes  to  heaven  and  saw  a  wood  ; 
I  saw  it  when  Christ  came  down. 
I  said  to  him  :  '  Benign  little  Father, 
What  are  those  nails  you  hold  in  your  hand  ?' 
He  said  to  me  :  '  This  is  the  sign 
That  for  love  I  give  My  blood.' 
Let  us  praise  the  holy  Sacrament, 
And  long  live  the  little  virgin  St.  Lucy !" 

After  these  stanzas  they  started  the  third  part  of 
their  singing,  still  reaping  vigorously.  This  con- 
sisted of  a  series  of  versicles  with  a  rhyme  in  the 
middle  ;  the  ligatore  sang  one,  after  him  the  reapers 
repeated  it  in  chorus,  the  ligatore  sang  the  next 
and  they  all  repeated  it  together,  and  so  on  to  the 
end.     These  are  some  of  the  versicles  : 

"  Let  us  praise  in  every  hour  the  most  holy  Sacrament. 
"  Let  us  praise  in  every  moment  the  loving  heart  of  Jesus. 
"  And  let  be  praised  for  ever  the  most  pure  Virgin  Mary. 
"  How    beautiful    are    these    words :    '  Long    live    God    and 
St  Nicholas !' 


HARVEST  121 

"  How  noble  is  the  Lord  I     He  really  is  the  God  of  Love. 

•'  The  true  Son  of  Mary,  your  mother  and  my  mother. 

"  He  denies  nothing  to  us.     Oh,  forgive  us  our  sins  ! 

"  Every  time  we  praise  the  Lord  we  refresh  the  holy  souls. 

"  Let  us  praise  the  Eternal  Father,  who  will  save  us  from  hell. 

"  Let  us  shout  in  the  air  :  '  Long  live  Mary  of  the  Rosary  !' 

"  Let  St.  Joseph  be  praised,  our  protector  and  advocate. 

"  Let  St.  Joseph  be  praised,  the  dear  spouse  of  Mary, 

"  Let  us  praise  frequently  the  most  holy  Crucifix. 

"  When  the  bell  rings,  Jesus  calls  us  all. 

"  Let  us  praise  the  Eternal  Father,  who  saves  us  from  hell. 

"  And  let  us  end  with  a  thanksgiving  to  Mary,  St.  Anne,  and 
St.  Ignatius. 

"The  thanksgiving  now  is  made.  Long  live  God  and 
St.  Lewis ! 

"And  once  more  let  us  praise  and  thank  the  name  of  the 
most  holy  Sacrament." 


After  this,  silence  reigned  in  the  peaceftil  land- 
scape as  it  basked  in  the  slanting  shadows  of  the 
setting  sun ;  the  only  noise  heard  was  the  rusthng 
of  the  corn  as  the  men  reaped  it  with  their  short 
sickles. 

A  few  minutes  later,  just  as  the  last  rays  dis- 
appeared behind  the  distant  mountains,  leaving 
behind  them  that  soft  Ught  which  comes  when  the 
summer  day  is  over,  the  men  reaped  the  last  tall 
ears  of  corn  ;  this  done,  they  waved  triumphantly 
in  the  air  this  last  armful  of  ears,  turned  to  the 
west,  and  shouted  all  together,  "  JEvviva  San 
Cahgero  r    the    golden    corn    against    their    red 


122       SICILIAN  WAYS  AND  DAYS 

handkerchiefs  and  bronzed  faces  forming  a  striking 
contrast  of  colours. 

This  was  an  invocation  to  their  favourite  saint, 
who  had  helped  them  through  their  day's  work. 

"  I  hope,"  I  remarked  to  Alessandro,  who  was  by 
me,  leaning  on  his  rifle — *'  I  hope  that  you  will 
explain  to  me  who  is  San  Calogero.  I  never  heard 
of  this  saint  before." 

"  All  I  know  of  him,"  answered  Alessandro,  "  is 
that  he  has  a  black  face  and  an  iron  head,  and  that 
he  perspires  when  he  does  a  miracle,  which  shows 
it  does  not  come  very  easy  to  him.  If  Voscenza 
was  to  ask  me  about  Orlando,  now,  I  could  tell  all 
about  his  duel  with  Argante,  but  who  cares  about 
San  Calogero  ?" 

"  The  reapers  evidently  seem  to  care  about  him." 

"  Yes,  but,  Voscenza  sees,  they  are  like  him  in 
some  respects,  for  they  have  black  faces,  and  they 
do  not  accomplish  the  miracle  of  reaping  without 
a  good  deal  of  perspiration ; "  and  with  this  crush- 
ing joke  at  the  poor  toiling  reapers,  Alessandro 
airily  put  San  Calogero  away  from  the  conversation. 
*  -jfr  *  *  * 

Religious  indifference,  so  common  amongst  the 
lower  classes  in  Northern  Italy,  has  not  found  its 
way  here  yet,  and  though  their  religion  is  entirely 


THE  REAPERS.    (Page  118.) 


EVVIVA  SAN  CALOGERO  !"    (Page  121.) 


To  face  page  122. 


HARVEST  123 

made  up  of  forms,  yet  the  people  follow  them 
devoutly.  Here  is  a  good  example  of  this  :  Reapers 
work  on  Sundays,  and  do  not  think  it  wrong  to  do 
so.  But  they  have  been  taught  it  would  be  a  sin 
to  go  without  Mass  on  that  day,  so,  in  every  corn- 
growing  place,  as  long  as  reaping  goes  on,  every 
night  preceding  Sundays  and  Saints'  days  there  is 
the  so-called  Reapers'  Mass.  At  three  o'clock  in 
the  morning,  when  it  is  still  quite  dark,  the  bells  are 
rung  loudly  during  ten  minutes,  to  awake  the  hard- 
worked  reapers  fast  asleep  on  the  village  square. 
This  noisy  bell-ringing  when  the  shades  of  night 
still  cover  the  world  has  a  very  weird  effect. 

The  reapers  all  get  up,  and  with  their  scythe  on 
the  shoulder  and  red  handkerchief  tied  about  the 
head,  assist  at  the  Mass  in  the  dimly -lighted  church, 
after  which  they  silently  walk  off  to  the  different 
fields  where  they  are  bound  in  the  pale  light  of 
approaching  da^ii,  and  after  again  exclaiming  to 
each  other,  "  Evviva  San  Calogero  /"  as  a  kind  of 
greeting,  begin  their  work  long  before  the  appearance 
of  the  sun  beyond  the  far-away  range  of  mountains 
to  the  east.  They  do  not  mind  the  sacrifice  of  this 
hour  devoted  to  the  Mass,  and  take  it  from  their 
short  night's  rest  with  fatalistic  resignation. 


124       SICILIAN  WAYS  AND  DAYS 

Thanks  to  San  Calogero,  harvest  is  happily  over, 
and  the  reapers  have  all  gone  av^ay. 

About  the  bare  fields,  bristling  with  stumps  of 
straw,  lie  innumerable  sheaves  of  corn. 

The  owner  of  the  land  chooses  the  highest  and 
flattest  spot  in  the  field,  generally  a  wide,  wind- 
blown hill-top,  where  all  the  sheaves  are  brought 
and  arranged  in  a  goodly  pile.  Then  a  wide, 
circular  space  is  swept  and  scraped  and  rubbed 
until  the  hard,  dry  earth,  which  has  not  seen  rain 
for  several  months  (for  we  are  now  well  into  the 
month  of  July),  becomes  like  a  smooth  floor.  The 
sheaves  are  next  cut  open  and  spread  on  this  place, 
forming  a  thick  bed,  going  up  to  the  knees  of  the 
horses  or  mules  which  are  now  brought  here  for 
the  threshing. 

A  man  stands  in  the  middle,  as  in  a  circus, 
holding  the  reins  and  a  long  whip;  the  horses  trot 
round  and  round  and  across,  as  the  man  directs 
them ;  and  this  goes  on  all  through  the  long  burn- 
ing day,  under  the  blazing  July  sun,  from  daybreak 
till  sunset,  with  short  rests,  the  grain  thus  separat- 
ing from  the  straw,  which  remains  on  the  top  or 
is  carried  to  one  side  by  the  wind. 

It  takes  about  four  days  of  treading  to  com- 
pletely separate   the  grain  from   the  straw,  most 


TOSSING  THE  STRAW.    (Page  US.) 


^  Mb 

^  ,V  ^ 

■'li 

r 

■  1 

•  1  ---^*'--:ai| 

THE  THRESHIXG-PLACE.     (Page  125.) 


To  face  page  124. 


k 


HARVEST  125 

of  which,  lifted  by  the  wind,  rises  from  the  threshing- 
floor,  and  builds  a  high  bank  around  one  side  of  it. 

These  threshing-places,  once  harvest  is  over,  are 
very  numerous,  there  being  one  on  every  breezy 
hill-top,  and  it  is  the  custom  to  go  and  visit  one  of 
them  at  the  close  of  day,  inspect  the  beautiful  layer 
of  corn  hidden  under  the  bed  of  straw,  and  watch 
the  men  at  their  work. 

Accordingly  one  evening  I  went  with  Alessandro 
to  one  of  our  threshing-floors,  knowing  I  should 
find  there  some  fresh  impressions  of  rural  life.  The 
men  we  found  at  work  there  were  brothers,  both 
dark  and  hot  and  sunburnt.  They  had  been  toiling 
ever  since  daybreak,  and  looked  absolutely  baked ; 
but  now  that  their  work  was  nearly  over,  they 
went  at  it  with  renewed  energy.  They  wore  their 
shirts  flying  loose  over  their  linen  trousers,  for 
coolness  I  suppose,  and  to  protect  their  heads 
from  the  sun  had  the  usual  picturesque  red  hand- 
kerchief tied  over  their  ears.  One  of  them  was 
resting,  but  the  other  stood  in  the  middle  of  the 
threshing-place,  waved  high  his  whip,  and  led  the 
mules  round  and  round,  exciting  them  with  his 
voice,  his  shirt  flying  about  in  the  breeze,  his  red 
handkerchief  and  dazzling  teeth  giving  the  needful 
touch  of  colour  to  the  whole  scene. 


126       SICILIAN  WAYS  AND  DAYS 

In  the  shade  afforded  by  the  rising  wall  of  hot, 
dry  straw  lay,  half-buried,  a  great  two-handled 
amphora  of  lovely  shape,  containing  the  men's 
drinking-water. 

The  sun  was  going  down  slowly  in  the  west,  and 
silence  was  over  all. 

I  watched  the  man  as  he  drove  about  the  mules. 
Suddenly,  after  turning  to  the  setting  sun,  he 
shouted  forth  on  one  note  a  long  sentence  in 
Sicilian,  beginning  it  in  drawling  fashion  and  end- 
ing it  abruptly. 

Of  course,  I  turned  at  once  to  Alessandro  to  ask 
what  this  meant,  and  he  answered :  "  This  man  is 
praising  the  Lord  because  his  day's  work  is  over." 

Before  I  had  time  to  speak  again,  the  man  again 
shouted  to  the  winds  his  wild  invocation,  the  mules 
gathering  courage  at  the  sound,  and  cantering 
briskly  over  the  straw  ;  for,  as  Alessandro  pointed 
out :  "  Voscenza  sees  how  the  mules  know  that 
when  their  master  praises  the  Lord  they  will  soon 
have  finished  work  ?" 

Then  I  noticed  some  wild,  distant  cries  coming 
from  the  beautiful  circle  of  hills  and  valleys  about 
and  below  us,  and  learnt  that  all  the  men  in  the 
various  threshing-places  were  thus  "  praising  the 
Lord  "  because  the  sun  was  going  down. 


.»  :  >  ;  » 


i'LULGHlNG.     0  ■'««  iou.> 


"  MASTRU  "  FEDERICO.     (Page  130.) 


To  face  page  126. 


HARVEST  127 

In  the  meanwhile,  the  man  before  us  burst  forth 
every  two  minutes  with  his  wild,  primitive  invoca- 
tion, and  at  the  last  verse,  sung  as  the  dying  rays 
vanished  from  the  peaceful  landscape,  the  mules 
left  the  threshing-place,  the  peasant  threw  down 
his  whip,  and  came  towards  us  with  a  smile,  asking 
us  to  sit  down  on  the  nice  clean  straw. 

Delighted  with  this  charming  pagan  custom  of 

mingling  worship  with  work,  I  asked  Alessandro  to 

dictate  to  me  the  invocations  or  litanies  chanted  by 

the  threshing   men,  and  with  a  little  prompting 

from    them   he    dictated   the  following  verses   in 

Sicilian  dialect,  making  me  first  write  out  the  title, 

thus : 

"PRAISES  OF  THE  LORD. 

"  Let  us  thank  and  praise  the  name  of  the  most  holy  Sacra- 
ment, and  long  live  Mary  ! 

"  Mary,  conceived  without  stain  of  original  sin,  is  pure.    Amen. 

"  Let  hell  and  avarice  be  destroyed,  and  long  live  the  Madonna 
of  Grace  ! 

"  And,  in  spite  of  hell,  long  live  Mary  for  ever  ! 

"  And,  in  spite  of  the  devil,  long  live  Mary  of  the  Rosary  ! 

"  Let  us  praise  St.  Simon,  who  protects  us  from  the  kicks  of 
donkeys,  mules,  and  horses. 

"  Let  us  praise  St.  A16,  who  guards  our  cattle. 

"  Let  us  praise  little  Santa  Lucia,  who  protects  the  sight  of 
our  eyes. 

"  Let  us  praise  St.  Onofrio  and  St.  Paul,  who  deliver  us  from 
thunder  and  lightning,  from  plague  and  sudden  death. 

"  Let  us  praise  the  purity  and  chastity  of  the  patriarch 
St.  Joseph,  and  of  all  saints  and  angels  in  Paradise. 


128       SICILIAN  WAYS  AND  DAYS 

"  Let  us  praise  Santa  Fara,  who  watches  over  our  food. 

"  Go  round  and  round  gently^  my  mules,  for  God  is  here,  and 
the  holy  angels  and  St.  Peter,  with  St.  Hyacinth,  the  Magdalen, 
and  the  Holy  Ghost. 

"  In  the  sign  of  the  Cross,  I  place  the  names  of  God,  Son,  and 
Holy  Ghost. 

"Put  one  foot  forward,  and  the  other  will  follow,  lovely 
mules ! 

"  Let  us  praise  St.  Clement,  and  let  us  take  up  the  trident. 

"  Let  us  pray  for  the  rest  of  the  dear  souls  in  Purgatory. 

"And  may  the  Madonna  of  Gibilmanna  save  my  body  and 
my  soul ! 

"  Go  with  the  wind,  good  beasts  !" 

English  translation  is  unable  to  render  the  poetic 
turn  of  this  strange  litany,  where  invocations  to  the 
saints  are  mixed  with  exhortations  to  the  mules, 
a  charming  touch  of  ingenuity  appearing  in  every 
line,  whilst  now  and  then  an  elementary  rhyme  or 
assonance  pleases  the  ear. 

Evening  was  coming  on  ;  the  mules  were  stand- 
ing in  the  cool  breeze,  resting.  The  men  who  had 
called  upon  St.  Clement  took  up  some  wooden 
tridents  or  forks,  and  began  to  toss  the  straw  up 
on  the  wall,  when  their  food — the  food  over  which 
Santa  Fara  had  Vv^atched — appeared  under  the  shape 
of  a  caldron  on  the  head  of  a  woman,  and  a  small 
amphora  on  the  head  of  a  girl. 

The  caldron  contained  steaming  maccheroni^ 
richly   seasoned   with    tomato    sauce   and   cheese, 


"  NAME  OF  GOD  !"    (Page  130.) 


"HE  FILLED  THE  MEASURE."    (Page  130.) 


To  face  page  128. 


HARVEST  129 

and  the  graceful  stone  bottle  was  full  of  well- 
earned  wine. 

Half  a  dozen  children,  brown,  half-naked  little 
things,  had  escorted  this  plain  but  wholesome 
dinner ;  and  now  men,  women,  and  children  all 
sat  down  around  a  clean  napkin,  and  the  mother 
served  out  a  plate  to  each. 

The  reason  of  this  outdoor  supper  was  then 
pointed  out  to  me:  the  men  cannot  leave  the 
threshing-floor  a  moment,  for  they  must  watch 
over  the  corn  hidden  under  the  straw.  Some 
threshing-places  have  £40  worth  and  more  of  corn, 
and  it  might  easily  be  stolen  if  left  alone,  since  the 
fields  are  as  solitary  as  a  desert ;  so  the  men  always 
spend  the  night  there,  with  their  rifles  and  dogs. 
No  better  way  of  passing  the  night  could  be 
imagined  than  sleeping  on  that  soft  bed  of  straw 
under  the  sparkling  canopy  of  a  Southern  sky  I 

We  have  seen  how,  with  the  help  and  protection 
of  the  Lord,  San  Calogero,  the  Madonna,  and 
many  out-of-the-way  saints,  the  corn  has  been 
safely  reaped  and  threshed. 

It  now  stands  in  the  middle  of  the  threshing- 
floor — a  noble  heap,  the  colour  of  gold — and  must 
be  divided  in  exactly  two  halves ;  one  goes  to  the 
owner  of  the  land,  the  other  to  the  peasant  who 

9 


180       SICILIAN  WAYS  AND  DAYS 

has  sustained  the  work  and  expense  of  ploughing, 
sowing,  and  reaping. 

This  is  how  1  saw  them  go  through  the  ceremony 
of  division  in  one  of  our  threshing-places. 

When  I  arrived  there  on  horseback,  and  escorted 
by  Alessandro,  I  found  that  the  workers  were 
resting  and  listening  to  Mastru  Federico,  our 
overseer,  who  was  reading  to  them  a  medieval 
romance  —  the  heroic  feats  of  Rinaldo,  the 
Crusader. 

Our  arrival  interrupted  the  reading,  and  after 
a  little  discussion  between  Alessandro  and  the 
overseer  as  to  the  merits  of  the  various  warriors 
of  Tasso's  Gerusalemme,  a  large,  iron-bound 
measure,  containing  about  28  pounds,  and  called 
a  tumolo,  was  brought  into  the  threshing-place  for 
the  division.  The  overseer,  tall,  burly,  full  of  his 
own  importance,  came  forward  and  began.  He 
filled  the  measure  rapidly,  and  poured  the  corn 
alternately  in  our  own  sacks,  held  out  by  the  men, 
and  into  the  peasant's  sacks.  He  counted  the 
tumoli  loudly,  but  at  the  first,  instead  of  calling 
out  "One!"  he  shouted,  "Name  of  God  1'  so  as 
not  to  begin  such  a  solemn  function  without  an 
invocation  to  the  powers  above,  in  the  old  pagan 
way.     He  filled  and  emptied   the  measure  very 


HARVEST  131 

quickly,  beginning  to  count  again  after  every 
sixteen  tumoli,  always  starting  the  fresh  account 
with  "  Name  of  God !" 

The  heap  was  rapidly  decreasing,  our  own  sacks 
of  corn  being  sent  to  the  village  on  some  donkeys 
under  the  protection  of  an  armed  man,  when  a 
monk,  leading  a  handsome  black  mule,  suddenly 
appeared  upon  the  scene.  He  looked  very  pic- 
turesque with  his  bushy  white  beard  and  large 
straw  hat. 

The  mule  was  smartly  decked  out  with  red-braid 
ornaments  and  dangling  plumes  and  tassels ;  a 
framed  image  of  the  Madonna  was  stuck  on  its 
forehead,  and  it  bore  some  sacks  of  corn.  I  was 
told  that  this  monk  went  from  one  threshing-place 
to  another  at  the  solemn  moment  of  the  division 
to  beg  for  corn  for  his  convent  at  Canicatti,  and 
that  it  was  the  custom  to  give  him  a  tumolo  of 
it,  and  accordingly  a  tumolo  was  emptied  into  his 
sack. 

After  he  had  received  the  corn,  the  monk  took 
from  the  mule's  forehead  the  image  of  the  Madonna 
of  the  Rosary,  and  held  it  out  to  me. 

Not  knowing  exactly  what  he  expected  me  to 
do,  I  smiled  at  the  picture,  but  after  me  he  passed 
it  on  to  the  men  in  turns,  who — even  Alessandro 

9—2 


132       SICILIAN  WAYS  AND  DAYS 

the  sceptic — touched  it  with  their  finger-tips,  which 
they  kissed  with  unconscious  grace. 

The  monk  next  stuck  the  image  in  the  heap  of 
corn — to  bless  it,  maybe — and  after  this  last  cere- 
mony tied  it  once  more  to  the  mule's  forehead,  and 
departed  solemnly,  whilst  I  continued  watching  the 
division,  which  was  now  coming  to  an  end  ;  and  in 
the  peaceful  valley  now  and  then  sounded  the 
solemn  cry,  "  Name  of  God  !" 


I 


SAN  CALOGERO 

Alessandro's  mysterious  words  about  San  Calo 
gero  had  fairly  puzzled  me,  but,  having  gone  to  the 
right  source  for  information,  I  found  out  curious 
facts  about  his  legend,  and  learnt  something  of 
the  special  festival  they  keep  in  his  honour  at 
Girgenti. 

San  Calogero,  the  popular  saint  of  the  provinces 
of  Girgenti  and  Caltanissetta,  is  the  most  mysterious 
of  all  Sicilian  saints,  and  is  always  represented  as  a 
negro. 

Professor  Pitre,  the  Sicihan  folklorist,  in  his 
volume,  Feste  Patronali  in  Sidlia^^  says  San 
Calogero  was  born  in  Calcedonia,  where  from  his 
early  youth  he  gave  himself  up  to  God,  who  en- 
dowed him  with  the  gift  of  miracles  and  prophecy. 

After  many  years  of  privation  he  became  a  priest, 
and  preached  Christianity. 

But  in  303  he  was  persecuted  by  Diocletian  and 

*  Alberto  Reber,  Palermo. 
133 


134       SICILIAN  WAYS  AND  DAYS 

Maximilian,  went  into  exile,  and  landed  at  Lillibeo 
(Sicily),  where  he  sought  refuge  in  a  grotto,  whence 
he  came  out  now  and  then  to  preach  Christ  crucified. 
His  disciples,  however,  were  massacred.  In  313, 
when  Constantine  the  Great  ascended  the  throne, 
Calogero  emerged  from  his  grotto  once  more,  and 
struck  the  people  with  his  piety  and  his  miracles, 
until  he  died  of  old  age  in  a  grotto  on  Mount 
Cronio,  near  Sciacca. 

This  is  a  summary  of  his  life ;  but  if  we  look  a 
little  further  than  the  legend  of  the  saint,  and 
examine  the  etymology  of  his  name — KaXwg  rtpwv, 
beautiful  old  man — we  can  easily  imagine  that  this 
name  has  been  common  to  men  celebrated  for  their 
self-sacrifice,  heroism,  philanthropy,  and  holiness. 
And  this  opinion  is  confirmed  by  the  devotion 
offered  to  San  Calogero  by  innumerable  towns  in 
the  provinces  of  Girgenti  and  Caltanissetta,  who 
each  claim  for  themselves  the  one  the  birth,  the 
other  the  life,  another  the  miracles,  of  San  Calogero. 
In  fact,  Girgenti,  Sciacca,  Naro,  Canicatti,  Ara- 
gona,  San  Salvatore  di  Fitalia,  all  and  each  boast 
of  their  own  San  Calogero,  their  protector,  for 
whom  they  profess  a  boundless  faith  which  passes 
all  imagination. 


SAN  CALOGERO  135 

I  will  now  say  something  (still  culling  from 
Pitre's  book)  about  the  way  San  Calogero's  festival 
is  kept  in  Girgenti  on  the  first  Sunday  in  July. 

His  church,  which  remains  closed  the  greater 
part  of  the  year,  stands  a  little  way  out  of  Girgenti, 
at  the  Porta  Atenea ;  it  is  a  very  simple  one,  in 
Arabo-Norman  style. 

The  people  who  have  made  a  vow  to  San 
Calogero  ^vill  now  go  on  a  pilgrimage  to  this 
chapel,  barefooted,  reciting  litanies  to  themselves 
as  they  go. 

Silence  is  not  to  be  broken  on  any  account,  but 
it  ends  at  the  church,  and  the  journey  back  is 
effected  boisterously. 

Once  in  the  church,  if  the  vow  requires  it,  the 
pilgrim  will  go  up  to  the  altar  lying  on  his  stomach, 
and  sweeping  the  floor  of  the  church  with  his 
tongue  from  the  door  to  the  altar.  He  is  preceded 
by  a  man  who,  with  a  handkerchief,  sweeps  and 
beats  away  the  dust  from  that  part  of  the  floor 
which  the  pilgrim  is  to  lick. 

When  he  does  not  feel  equal  to  accomplishing 
this  short  but  trying  journey,  his  admiring  relatives 
tie  ropes  under  his  arms  and  drag  him  along,  his 
tongue  always  sweeping  the  floor.  This  is  the  most 
revolting  sight  which  ever  disgusted  a  normal  on- 


136       SICILIAN  WAYS  AND  DAYS 

looker,  but  the  natives  all  look  on  with  complacency 
and  admiration. 

A  week  before  the  appointed  day  the  town  is 
filled  with  rumour  and  animation,  and  the  large 
drums  practise  every  day,  standing  in  a  circle  with 
the  head-drummer,  who,  with  comical  energy, 
directs  their  wild  symphony. 

The  saint,  who  has  an  iron  head  with  copper- 
coloured  varnish,  and  wears  a  long  black  tunic  made 
gay  with  white  flowers,  is  very  heavy,  especially  as 
the  whole  stand  is  iron-bound  on  all  sides,  to  resist 
better  the  bumping  and  shaking  he  receives  during 
his  wild  race  through  the  town. 

At  twelve  o'clock  a  crowd  of  vigorous  young 
men  rush  to  take  a  place  along  the  poles  which 
sustain  the  saint ;  those  who  do  not  find  a  place 
will  be  content  with  just  touching  the  pole,  awaiting 
the  privilege  of  carrying  him  when  any  of  the 
eighty  bearers  have  to  rest. 

The  special  feature  of  this  procession  is  that  the 
clergy  do  not  take  part  in  it;  the  people  alone 
carry  the  saint  round,  the  people  alone  surround 
him,  shout  and  weep  and  cheer  on  his  passage, 
and  follow  him,  gambolling  and  calling  upon  his 
name. 

Whenever  some  of  the  carriers  are  tired,  they 


SAN  CALOGERO  137 

receive  food  and  wine  from  San  Calogero's  devotees, 
and  when,  in  the  hottest  part  of  the  day,  they  all 
go  for  a  rest  in  the  shade,  the  black  saint  remains 
immovable  under  the  scorching  July  sun,  supremely 
indifferent  to  all  that  happens  around  him. 

But  they  soon  lift  him  up  again,  and,  escorted  by 
a  loud  band,  the  inevitable  drums,  and  the  yelling 
population,  he  rushes  through  the  narrow  streets 
once  more,  bumping  his  iron  head  from  side  to  side 
against  the  houses,  where,  whenever  a  blow  from 
his  head  has  damaged  the  plaster,  a  man,  who 
follows  the  stand  with  a  bundle  of  images  of  the 
saint,  rushes  up  and  sticks  one  of  these  images  on 
the  spot  where  the  plaster  came  off,  after  which  the 
owner  of  the  house  becomes  a  happier  man. 

Sometimes  the  quick  march  of  the  saint  comes 
to  a  standstill ;  he  is  set  on  the  ground,  and  after 
a  minute's  rest,  when  his  bearers  try  to  lift  him 
again,  they  find  it  impossible,  they  say,  to  do  so. 
The  saint's  stand  sticks  obstinately  to  the  ground, 
and  will  not  move,  however  much  they  push  and 
drag  him. 

It  is  now  quite  clear  that  he  expects  an  offering 
from  the  inhabitants  of  the  house  opposite  which 
he  stopped.  Nothing  less  will  move  him,  so,  in 
great  haste,  a  suitable  gift  in  kind  or  some  small 


138       SICILIAN  WAYS  AND  DAYS 

sum  of  money  is  brought  to  him,  after  which  he 
suffers  his  bearers  to  lift  him  once  more  and  to 
carry  him  on,  ever  shouting  and  rejoicing. 

But  there  is  more  to  tell ;  a  chemist  or  a  doctor 
remains  permanently  on  the  stand  at  the  saint's  feet, 
and  is  carried  along  with  him.  When  a  handbell 
rings  the  saint  stops,  and  is  set  on  the  ground  with 
a  loud  bump.  Then  a  woman  comes  forward  with 
a  child  who  has  a  rupture. 

The  chemist  or  doctor  manipulates  him  a  bit 
without  heeding  his  screams,  and  lays  him  at  the 
saint's  feet.  A  minute's  anxious  silence,  and  the 
child  is  healed ;  the  miracle  is  done.  The  crowd 
deliriously  cheers  the  saint,  drums  and  band  start 
afresh,  the  bearers  lift  the  stand,  and  resume  their 
race  around  the  town. 

At  a  given  moment  a  loud  rumour  rises  in  the 
crowd ;  the  saint  is  perspiring.  The  stand  stops, 
and  many  young  men  climb  like  monkeys  upon  it 
to  wipe  the  perspiration  which  runs  down  his  face, 
his  white  beard,  his  neck. 

A  thousand  hands  are  now  extended  to  become 
the  proud  possessors  of  these  handkerchiefs,  or,  at 
the  least,  to  touch  them  with  other  handkerchiefs, 
which  will  henceforth  become  family  relics. 

The  perspiration  is  wiped  away,  the  saint  starts 


SAN  CALOGERO  139 

on  his  way  once  more ;  but  something  unexpected 
happens. 

Bits  and  loaves  of  hard  bread  thrown  out  of  the 
windows  and  levelled  at  the  saint's  head  fall  on  the 
heads  of  the  crowd  instead,  like  a  rain  of  stones. 
This  is  only  the  accomplishment  of  a  vow ;  what 
does  it  matter  if  someone  in  the  crowd  be  injured 
by  receiving  one  of  those  bullet-loaves  on  the  head  ? 
This  bread  is  sacred — happy  those  who  can  taste  of 
it ! — and  an  awful  scuffle,  something  like  a  struggle 
for  Hfe,  takes  place,  everyone  being  madly  intent 
on  picking  up  and  appropriating  one  of  these  loaves ! 

Towards  sunset,  at  last,  the  black  saint,  still 
escorted  by  thousands  of  enthusiastic  admirers, 
amidst  the  firing  off  of  mortaretti  and  fireworks, 
with  the  never-ceasing  thunder-roll  of  the  drums, 
is  taken  back  to  his  little  church,  where  he  is  safely 
reintegrated  with  one  last  uproarious  shout  of, 
"  JEvviva  San  Calogero  /" 

*  *  *  *  * 

"  Well,  Alessandro,"  I  said,  shutting  Pitre's  book, 
'*  I  know  all  about  San  Calogero  now,  and  I  know 
also  why  his  head  is  made  of  iron.  It  is  to  prevent 
its  breaking  when  they  bump  it  against  the  houses 
in  the  narrow  streets  of  Girgenti." 

"  Does  the  book  say  how  our  women  speak  of 


140       SICILIAN  WAYS  AND  DAYS 

San  Calogero  when  they  have  a  pig-headed  child  ?" 
asked  Alessandro,  with  a  superior  smile  at  my  faith 
in  the  book. 

"  No,  it  doesn't,"  I  answered  shortly. 

"  Well,  when  a  woman  has  an  obstinate  child,  she 
complains  of  it  to  the  other  women,  and  always 
adds  :  '  His  head  is  as  hard  as  San  Calogero's  !' " 


A  CUP  OF  COFFEE  AT  RABBIONE 

In  the  fresh  air  of  early  dawn  this  morning,  as  the 
church-bells  were  ringing  the  morning  chime  called 
Salve  Regina,  I  rode  out  of  the  silent  village  with 
two  of  our  men. 

Harvest  is  nearly  over  now ;  the  country  there- 
fore is  safer  than  it  was,  as  the  tall  corn,  which  here 
often  grows  higher  than  a  man,  and  thus  affords 
favourable  hiding-places  to  brigands,  is  partly  cut 
down,  and  I  take  advantage  of  this  to  resume  my 
long  rides  across  the  country. 

We  rode  down  to  a  solitary  bridge  which  bears 
the  Spanish  name  of  Ponte  Catalano,  and  up  again, 
along  wide  hills  covered  with  thick  golden  corn,  so 
tall  that  the  horses  were  up  to  the  shoulders  in  it. 

Now  and  then  we  came  upon  a  company  of 
reapers  at  work,  dark-faced,  sunburnt,  strong-looking 
fellows,  with  their  red  handkerchiefs  tied  about  their 
heads,  saying  their  litanies  as  they  worked.  As  no 
woman  here  would  ever  dream  of  venturing  forth 

141 


142       SICILIAN  WAYS  AND  DAYS 

as  1  do,  riding  into  those  wild  parts,  they  must  have 
considered  me  as  an  apparition.  They  left  off 
reaping  to  watch  us  pass,  putting  in  their  look  the 
cautious  expression  of  the  man  who  will  never  seem 
astonished  at  anything,  so  characteristic  of  the 
Sicilian. 

They  said  to  me  as  I  passed,  "  Baciamu  la  manu  " 
(We  kiss  your  hand),  greeted  my  men  with  the 
words, '' Rispettamu'  (We  respect  you),  and  resumed 
their  work  under  the  already  burning  rays  of  the 
morning  sun. 

We  rode  thus  for  two  hours  and  more,  rising 
always  higher,  surrounded  by  the  solitude  of  those 
hills  and  broad  vales  still  partly  covered  with  corn, 
where  the  living  silence  was  broken  by  the  songs  of 
the  birds,  the  rustling  of  the  breeze  upon  the  wide, 
undulating  sheets  of  golden  corn,  and  now  and  then 
by  a  sad  chant  in  a  minor  key,  the  lamentation 
that  some  distant  reaper  threw  to  the  winds, 
desperate  like  the  sigh  of  a  cast-down  soul. 

And  we  rose  higher  still,  whilst  about  us  the 
scope  of  view  widened  into  a  vast,  infinite  circle 
of  mountains,  plains,  and  valleys. 

A  tall,  yellow  cliff  of  rocks  ran  along  the  summit 
of  the  mountain,  and  one  of  the  men,  Alessandro, 
who  has  explored  the  country  many  times,  took  me 


..  »  •  •    •  • 


^  •■  '-Tllif : 


"THE  SICILIAN  'FATTORIA.'"    (Page  143.) 


BEGGING  FOR  CORN  FOR  HIS  CONVENT."    (Page  131.) 


To  face  page  1-4:; 


A  CUP  OF  COFFEE  AT  RABBIONE     143 

to  the  foot  of  that  cliff  and  showed  me  that  it  was 
made  of  sand  mixed  with  fossiUzed  sea-shells. 

I  would  have  picked  up  some,  but  they  were  so 
brittle  they  broke  in  my  hand. 

After  minutely  inspecting  this  cliff,  which  would 
have  interested  a  geologist,  we  went  to  sit  on  a  flat, 
breezy  rock  on  the  slope  of  the  mountain,  where  the 
wind  blew  fresher,  and  from  which  we  could  see  the 
whole  province,  the  others  beyond,  very  few  towns, 
if  any,  and  far  away  to  the  east,  Etna's  white  cone. 

Not  a  house  was  in  sight,  nor  a  village,  but  on 
our  left,  at  ten  minutes'  walk  from  where  we  sat, 
rose  a  big  modern  building  painted  pink,  with  red 
tiles,  looking  like  something  between  a  country 
dwelling  and  a  fortress,  the  result  being  the  Sicilian 
fattoria  or  farmhouse,  where  the  owner  of  those 
vast  acres  of  corn-land  called  feudi  comes  to  live 
during  harvest-time  with  his  campieri  (rural  guards 
and  overseers)  to  look  after  the  harvest. 

This  large  fattoria,  called  Rabbione,  interested 
me  as  the  only  sign  of  the  existence  of  man  in  those 
solitary  regions  where  Nature  alone  seemed  to  reign. 

We  had  breakfast  on  that  mountain-side  in  the 
usual  frugal  fashion :  brown  bread,  cheese,  omelet, 
celery,  cucumbers,  pickled  olives  and  oranges. 

Alessandro  quoted  continually  Dante,  Petrarch, 


144       SICILIAN  WAYS  AND  DAYS 

and  his  favourite,  Ariosto.  The  other  man  looked 
after  the  provisions,  and  poured  our  wine  out  of 
a  lovely  stone  flask  painted  green  and  yellow,  with 
two  flat  handles. 

About  us  fluttered  blue  and  yellow  butterflies, 
and  far  below  us  lay  the  wide  cornfields  ;  silence  and 
sunshine  were  over  all.  Suddenly  we  heard  the 
steps  of  horses,  and  saw  two  men  on  horseback 
coming  towards  us  through  the  corn. 

My  men  explained  that  these  were  the  master 
of  the  Jeudo,  at  present  staying  at  Rabbione  for  the 
harvest  season,  and  his  overseer. 

This  gentleman  had  seen  us  from  a  distance,  and 
had  ridden  over  to  greet  us  and  ask  me  to  come  and 
rest  at  his  casina,  as  they  call  here  those  immense 
and  warlike-looking  farmhouses. 

He  dismounted  and  walked  towards  us ;  he 
looked  about  thirty-five,  had  a  dark  complexion, 
and  wore  a  shooting- suit,  with  fine  top-boots. 

As  soon  as  he  was  near  me  he  said  he  had  recog- 
nized me  without  having  ever  seen  me,  for  he  had 
heard  about  my  doings  {ix,,  walks  and  rides). 
I  answered  that  the  men  had  told  me  his  name 
was  Don  Vincenzo,  and  that  I  was  happy  to  meet 
him.  This  is  all  the  introduction  there  was  between 
us,  but  it  was  more  than  sufficient  between  people 


A  CUP  OF  COFFEE  AT  RABBIONE     145 

meeting  so  far  from  human  dwellings  and  social 
etiquette ;  in  a  drawing-room  it  would  have  been 
considered  as  rather  too  summary. 

We  exchanged  a  few  poUte  remarks  ;  as  everyone 
does  here,  he  expressed  his  surprise  at  seeing  a 
woman  venture  so  far  into  the  wilderness  of  those 
feudi  which  only  last  week  were  haunted  by 
dangerous  brigands.  I  answered  that  with  good 
marksmen,  such  as  the  two  who  were  with  me, 
I  was  safe  everywhere,  and  that  Sicilian  women  did 
not  know  what  they  lost  by  not  imitating  me.  He 
then  courteously  invited  me  to  the  pink,  fortified 
farmhouse,  with  its  round  holes  by  the  windows,  to 
facilitate  shooting  from  inside  at  possible  intruders. 

We  accordingly  mounted  our  horses,  our  men 
rode  in  front,  and,  looking  just  like  an  adventure  in 
a  medieval  novel,  we  rode  to  the  big  pink  building, 
where,  passing  through  a  tall  ii'on  gateway  into 
a  large  yard,  any  number  of  fierce-looking  men  and 
dogs  came  to  meet  us,  the  men  taking  our  horses 
into  the  stables,  the  dogs  growling  at  me  in 
Sicilian.  .  .  . 

Don  Vincenzo  then  asked  me  to  come  up  to  his 
room  for  a  cup  of  coffee  ;  it  was  at  the  top  of  the 
house,  the  stairs  of  which  were  adorned  with 
images  of  the  Madonna  and  of  St.  Joseph.    Accord- 

10 


146       SICILIAN  WAYS  AND  DAYS 

ing  to  custom,  his  campieri  and  mine  followed  us 
there,  sat  in  the  room  with  us,  joined  pleasantly  in 
the  conversation,  and  were  treated  to  large  glasses 
of  wine  as  black  as  ink. 

There  was  not  a  single  woman  in  the  establish- 
ment, so  a  campiere  armed  to  the  teeth  made  my 
coiFee  over  a  straw  fire,  and  brought  me  a  cup  of  it, 
after  sweetening  it  himself  according  to  his  own 
fancy.  It  was  the  oddest,  most  picturesque,  and 
best  cup  of  coffee  I  have  ever  taken ;  and  the 
Rabbione  dogs  fought  fiercely  with  our  own  dogs 
under  the  table  all  the  time. 

After  half  an  hour  of  general  conversation  and 
sundry  kicks  to  the  dogs,  we  all  descended  into  the 
big  yard  to  mount  our  horses,  but  before  that  Don 
Vincenzo  asked  me  to  take  a  snapshot  of  himself  and 
his  overseer  as  a  souvenir  of  my  ride  to  Rabbione. 

We  then  took  leave  of  him  and  of  his  staff 
of  campieri,  exchanging  with  them  all  many  friendly 
greetings.  He  was  very  anxious  I  should  promise 
to  come  again,  saying  that  a  woman  had  never 
come  to  Rabbione  before.  (It  is  quite  certain  one 
will  never  go  there  again  unless  I  do  so  myself.) 
Alessandro  took  upon  himself  to  answer  for  me 
(he  always  does  if  he  thinks  I  don't  know  what  to 
say — he   has   so   much   tact)   by  promising   Don 


DOX  VINCENZO  AND  OVERSEER.  "    (Page  146.) 


■i:^iiiiik^:?l!ifel  ,r,.., ;.,  f^i.'^i'Miis^i'i. 


EVVIVA  SAN  CALOGERO  !"    (Page  147.) 

To  face  page  146. 


A  CUP  OF  COFFEE  AT  RABBIONE     147 

Vincenzo  I  would  certainly  ride  to  Rabbione  again 
if  God  would  allow  it,  which  in  our  case  was 
certainly  the  safest  thing  to  say  ! 

We  returned  to  Montedoro,  crossing  once  more 
the  sunlit  hills  and  valleys  and  their  sheets  of 
golden  corn,  greeted  at  our  passage  by  hard-work- 
ing reapers,  who  had  been  reaping  since  dawn,  and 
now  looked  at  me  with  a  swift  glance  of  recognition 
as  they  touched  the  red  handkerchief  about  their 
heads.  Then,  as  it  was  time  for  them  to  stop 
working  and  take  one  of  their  short  meals,  they  all 
waved  in  the  air  the  last  armful  of  corn  they  had 
reaped,  and  shouted :  "  Evviva  San  Calogero  /" 


10—2 


FUNERAL  CUSTOMS 

I  FIND  that  when  anyone  is  seriously  ill  here, 
unnecessary  haste  is  shown  to  make  the  invalid 
confess  and  receive  the  extreme  unction ;  without 
precautions,  therefore,  at  the  risk  even  of  giving  a 
terrible  shock  to  the  sick  person — who  in  many 
cases  is  not  dying  at  all — the  priest  is  sent  for. 

He  leaves  the  church  carrying  the  host  and 
walking  under  a  large  yellow  canopy.  Two  men 
walk  in  front,  the  one  shaking  a  small  bell  con- 
tinually, the  other  beating  on  a  large  drum,  which 
makes  a  deafening  noise,  not  forgetting  the  church- 
bells  tolling  wildly  all  the  time. 

Behind  the  priest  walks  a  crowd  of  women  veiled 
in  their  black  cloth  mantelline,  and  singing  as  they 
walk  the  following  verses  to  a  quaint,  quick  tune 
in  a  minor  key : 

''  E  ludiamu  ogni  momentu 
Chistu  santu  Sacramintu ! 
E  pur  sempri  sia  ludatu 
Nostra  Diu  Sacramintatu ! 
148 


FUNERAL  CUSIOMS  J  49 

These  verses,  a  medley  of  Sicilian  and  Italian, 
run  thus  in  English  : 

"  Let  us  praise  at  all  times 
This  most  holy  Sacrament . 
And  still  be  praised  for  ever 
Our  Lord  made  Sacrament !" 

This  procession  musters  stronger  as  the  Sacra- 
ment proceeds  on  its  way,  so  that  when  the  priest 
arrives  at  the  invalid's  house,  with  the  church-bells 
and  hand-bell  still  ringing  and  the  drum  still  beat- 
ing, it  is  a  real  crowd  which  follows  the  priest  into 
the  sick  room  unimpeded,  kneels  on  the  floor, 
and  remains  present — out  of  sheer  curiosity — at 
that  solemn  function. 

All  those  women  who  are  unable  to  enter  the 
room  kneel  on  the  road  outside  the  house. 

The  ceremony,  which  is  gone  through  in  quick, 
business-like  fashion,  the  drum,  the  bells,  the 
crowd,  the  foul  air,  and  the  shock,  often  shorten  the 
life  of  the  sick  person,  who,  in  most  cases,  would 
require  only  pure  air  and  quiet. 

The  moment  the  sick  person  has  ceased  to  live 
his  women-folk  begin  to  give  vent  to  their  sorrow 
by  shrieking  and  howling  in  such  a  way  as  to  be 
heard  at  a  great  distance.  If  they  did  not  do  this, 
they  would  be  accused  of  want  of  feeling ;  and,  not 
content  with  making  this  frightful  noise,  they  beat 


150       SICILIAN  WAYS  AND  DAYS 

upon  their  breasts,  tear  their  hair,  knock  their  heads 
against  the  wall,  and  behave  altogether  more  like 
mad  women  than  afflicted  ones. 

In  some  remote  parts  of  Sicily  still  prevails  the 
pagan  custom  of  paying  women  to  come  in  the 
house  of  death  to  sob  and  weep,  and  cry  in  a  loud 
voice  the  praises  of  the  dead  ! 

However,  at  Montedoro,  as  soon  as  the  noise 
subsides  a  little,  which  necessarily  happens  when 
the  shrieking  women  begin  to  feel  exhausted,  with 
the  help  of  friends  the  corpse  is  laid  out  and 
dressed,  and  the  house  is  thrown  open  to  all  the 
villagers,  who  flock  in  to  see  it,  whilst  a  company  of 
women,  completely  draped  in  black,  sit  in  a  circle 
around  the  bereaved  family,  who  now  remain  mute, 
with  occasional  moans  and  audible  sighs. 

The  Italian  law  says  that  at  least  twenty-four 
hours  must  elapse  before  burying  the  dead.  But 
the  houses  of  poor  people  consisting  here  in  most 
cases  of  one  room  only,  the  family  is  in  a  great 
hurry  to  get  rid  of  the  corpse.  It  is  then  that  this 
most  barbarous  thing  is  done.  Two  or  three  hours 
after  the  death  they  bear  the  corpse  in  an  uncovered 
coffin  to  the  church  for  benediction ;  if  the  family 
is  fairly  well  off,  the  band  follows  the  dead,  playing 
funeral  marches  in  the  case  of  an  adult,  and  quick, 


FUNERAL  CUSTOMS  151 

merry  music  in  the  case  of  a  small  child.  After 
the  Benediction  the  corpse  is  carried,  still  uncovered, 
to  the  cemetery,  and  left  alone  in  a  small  room 
there  for  the  night.  The  actual  burial  takes  place 
on  the  next  day. 

This  winter  a  girl  of  fourteen,  thus  carried  to  the 
cemetery  a  few  hours  after  her  death,  gave  signs  of 
life  before  reaching  it.  She  had  been  carried  off 
without  the  doctor's  authorization.  He  was  sent 
for  in  great  haste,  but  to  no  purpose,  for  it  was 
intensely  cold — there  was  snow  on  the  ground  ;  the 
poor  child  was  insufficiently  covered,  and  died  a 
second  time  for  good. 

Until  a  few  years  ago,  when  a  person  of  con- 
sideration died,  it  was  the  fashion  to  dress  him — or 
her — in  his  smartest  clothes,  place  him  sitting  up 
in  an  arm-chair  on  a  raised  wooden  stand,  and  the 
whole  village  flocked  in  to  see  him. 

But  what  was  worse,  a  few  hours  later  he  was 
carried,  still  sitting  up  in  his  arm-chair,  to  which 
he  was  fastened,  all  round  the  village  in  dismal 
procession,  after  which  he  was  carried  to  the 
church,  where  the  arm-chair  was  placed  on  a  high 
stand  shrouded  in  black  cloth,  and  the  corpse 
remained  up  there,  exposed  to  the  flies  and  to  the 
gaze  of  the  population. 


152       SICILIAN  WAYS  AND  DAYS 

The  funerals  of  my  father-in-law  and  mother-in- 
law  were  performed  in  this  way. 

This  atrocious  custom  was  suppressed  by  the 
law  fifteen  years  ago,  but  as  recently  as  ten  years 
ago,  when  the  parish  priest  died,  the  authorities 
had  to  give  in,  and,  making  an  exception  in  his 
favour,  allowed  the  dead  to  be  carried,  uncovered 
and  sitting  up,  all  round  the  village,  and  in  that 
position  to  sit  through  the  Mass  that  was  said  for 
the  rest  of  his  own  soul  1 

*  *  *  *  * 

When  my  old  brother-in-law  died  a  few  months 
ago,  in  order  to  conform  to  modern  customs,  the 
funeral  took  place  twenty-four  hours  and  more 
after  his  death. 

Shortly  after  the  funeral  the  mistress  of  the 
house  donned  mourning  clothes,  put  on  her  head 
a  big  black  shawl  which  hid  most  of  her  face,  and 
sat  down.  I  sat  near  her,  and  the  mourning  calls 
began. 

First  of  all  the  most  important  people  in  the 
place  were  shown  in,  such  as  the  members  of  the 
Town  Council  and  its  secretary,  the  doctor,  the 
schoolmaster,  the  postmaster,  etc.,  all  with  their 
wives  invariably  dressed  in  black,  with  a  black 
shawl  over  the  head. 


.     »  » »       »        »  c  .     >  .     >     ^        * 


ALESSANDRO'S  WEALTH  OF  CHILDREN."    (Page  157.) 


A  SIGN  OF  MOURNING.    (Page  154.) 


To  face  page  152. 


FUNERAL  CUSTOMS  153 

They  came  in  like  black  phantoms,  three,  four, 
six  at  a  time,  without  bowing,  and  just  sat  down 
in  a  circle  around  us,  tightly  draped  in  their  black 
shawls,  never  saying  a  word,  but  sighing  audibly 
from  time  to  time,  with  lowered  eyes.  The 
husbands  crowded  together  at  the  other  end  of 
the  room  (where  the  men  of  the  family  received 
them)  and  whispered  to  each  other. 

This  sort  of  thing  would  go  on  for  half  an  hour — 
an  hour  even — and  when  the  room  got  to  be  incon- 
veniently full,  half  a  dozen  women  rose  to  go,  drew 
near  to  the  mistress  of  the  house,  and  in  turns  bent 
towards  her,  and  rapidly  whispered  in  her  ear  a  few 
words  of  sympathy,  leaving  immediately,  followed 
by  their  husbands. 

The  room  would  then  fill  again,  and  during 
another  hour  we  would  be  surrounded  by  mute, 
black,  sighing  shadows  who  never  looked  up  nor 
stirred,  and  this  went  on  until  evening. 

The  mistress  of  the  house  then  took  me  into 
another  room,  and  showed  me,  with  some  pride,  the 
dinner  ready  cooked,  which  had  been  sent  by  her 
cousin  and  godmother,  who  lives  close  by. 

When  there  is  a  death  in  a  family,  for  twenty- 
four  hours  it  would  be  unseemly  to  cook,  or  even 
think  of  meals,  so  the  nearest  relations,  and,  failing 


154       SICILIAN  WAYS  AND  DAYS 

them,  the  most  intimate  friends,  send  the  neces- 
sary provisions  all  cooked  and  ready  to  be  eaten. 
This,  in  Sicilian,  is  called  the  conzu. 

Next  day,  at  ten  in  the  morning,  the  procession 
of  callers  began  all  over  again.  This  time  it 
was  the  shoemakers,  the  masons,  the  carpenters, 
the  trades-people,  the  overseers,  etc.  I  had  once 
more  to  sit  near  the  mistress  of  the  house, 
still  draped  in  her  black  shawl,  though  I  felt  like  a 
fish  out  of  water  in  the  midst  of  all  those  veiled 
women  with  nothing  on  my  head  except  my  hair, 
and  that,  even,  not  black  !  I  was  tortured  by  those 
hours  of  silent,  solemn  inaction,  fidgeted  on  my 
chair,  and  envied  the  mistress  of  the  house  who 
could  sit  so  quietly,  in  rigid  immobility,  shrouded 
in  her  black  shawl ! 

The  next  day  was  the  third  and  last  of  these 
mourning  calls,  and  after  that  we  were  left  in  peace. 

In  sign  of  mourning  the  maidservants  went  about 
the  house  all  these  days  with  their  heads  and  faces 
veiled  under  the  black  cloth  mantellina — which  at 
usual  times  is  worn  only  for  going  out  —  and 
managed  to  do  their  work  in  spite  of  that  encumber- 
ing headgear. 

One  last  detail :  upon  our  big,  battered  house- 
door  they  nailed  a  strip  of  black  velvet,  in  sign  of 


FUNERAL  CUSTOMS  155 

mourning.  Our  relations  and  all  our  people  in  the 
place  did  the  same  on  their  doors ;  these  strips  are 
supposed  to  remain  there  for  a  year. 

***** 

The  other  day  a  baby  died  in  a  neighbouring 
house.  After  making  the  usual  loud  lamentations, 
the  crowd  of  women  who  had  come  to  offer  sym- 
pathy to  the  bereaved  young  mother  laid  the  baby 
out  on  a  stretcher  and  covered  him  with  a  veil. 

When  the  men  came  to  carry  it  away,  the 
mother,  with  her  relations  and  friends,  made  such 
opposition  that  the  stretcher  had  to  be  carried  out 
of  the  room  by  force  amidst  the  struggles  and 
shrieks  of  some  twenty  women,  whilst  the  priest 
waited  in  the  street,  where  a  small  crowd  had 
assembled,  and  hstened  to  the  howls  and  scuffle 
within  with  an  impassive  countenance. 

When  at  last  the  little  stretcher  appeared,  carried 
by  some  lads,  and  followed  closely  by  male  relatives, 
the  small  balcony  upstairs  was  instantly  crowded 
with  sobbing  women,  all  black- veiled,  upholding  in 
their  midst  the  young  mother,  who  looked  about 
eighteen,  and  the  still  young  grandmother,  who  had 
worked  themselves  up  to  such  a  pitch  of  hysterical 
excitement  that  they  seemed  insane. 

The  mother,  waving  her  arms  frantically,  screamed 


156       SICILIAN  WAYS  AND  DAYS 

"  Addio,  addio  !"  with  many  words  of  endearment, 
to  the  Uttle  corpse  as  it  was  borne  away,  small  and 
white  under  the  veil,  down  the  narrow,  winding 
street,  with  the  priest  and  silent  crowd  behind. 

The  grandmother,  alluding  to  the  fact  that  this 
baby  had  been  christened  with  her  deceased  hus- 
band's name,  now  invoked  his  name,  and  in  a 
theatrical  attitude,  with  dramatic  gestures,  called 
upon  his  soul  in  heaven  to  receive  the  little  child's 
spirit ! 

All  this  noisy,  artificial,  and  yet  sincere  display 
of  feeling  went  on  wildly  for  about  two  minutes, 
then,  as  the  little  procession  silently  disappeared 
round  the  corner,  the  young  mother,  who  had  leant 
out,  moaning  loudly,  to  see  the  last  of  it,  fell  back 
in  hysterics,  and  the  women  carried  her  in,  whilst 
the  grandmother  went  on  calling  loudly  upon  her 
dead  husband's  name,  and  with  tearful,  upturned 
face  told  him  of  the  little  soul  who  was  to  join  him 
that  day  in  Paradise  ! 

i{t  :i«  4t  ♦  ♦ 

was  discussing  one  day  with  Alessandro  the 
various  funeral  ceremonies  I  had  witnessed  since 
I  came  here,  and  told  him  I  thought  the  conzu  was 
their  most  sensible  feature. 

"  Indeed,"  said  Alessandro,   "  Voscenza  is  right 


FUNERAL  CUSTOMS  157 

there.  With  my  wealth  of  children — I  have  eleven 
— I  am  poor  enough,  as  Voscenza  knows.  Well, 
some  time  ago  my  mother-in-law  having  died,  one 
of  my  compari,  who  is  fairly  well  off,  sent  into  my 
house  a  really  grand  dinner.  There  was  broth  with 
maccheroni  in  it,  sausage,  meat,  wine,  finocchio 
[fennel] — nothing  was  wanting,  and  my  children 
enjoyed  it,  poor  things  ! 

"  My  youngest  boy,  however,  who  is  of  an  in- 
quisitive turn  of  mind,  asked  me  why  we  were 
having  such  a  good  meal,  so  I  explained  to  him : 
*  Because  your  granny  died.' 

"  Well,  as  his  mother  was  putting  him  to  bed 
that  night,  I  heard  him  asking  her  longingly : 
'  Will  granny  die  again  to-morrow  V  " 


RACALMUTO    AND    MOUNT 
CASTELLUCCIO 

"  Where  shall  we  go  to-day  ?" 

The  question  came  from  Alessandro  as,  with  a 
second  man,  we  rode  out  of  Montedoro  in  the  cool- 
ness of  the  early  summer  morning.  It  was  very 
early  indeed  ;  a  few  stars  were  still  faintly  visible  ; 
fresh  white  mists  rose  from  the  valleys  below,  as 
from  a  distant,  quiet  sea ;  the  country  was  silent 
and  beautiful,  and  as  we  rode  briskly  along,  with 
many  dogs  scampering  around  us,  I  felt  as  if  I 
should  like  to  stay  out  all  day.  Fortunately,  we 
had  taken  a  little  food  with  us. 

I  did  not  answer  at  once,  because  we  were  just 
passing  in  front  of  the  rock-bound  shrine  of  the 
Madonna  della  Grazia  on  the  roadside,  and  I  knew 
that  both  the  men — even  Alessandro — would  turn 
round  and  send  a  grave  kiss  to  the  florid  Madonna 
nursing  her  babe  in  the  shrine,  so  I  waited  until 
this  little  ceremony  was  over,  and  said  at  last : 

158 


»  .       '  ♦ 


"WASHING  WAS  GOING  ON."    (Page  159.) 


"FILLING  THEIR  PITCHERS  AT  A  FOUNTAIN.  "    (Page  159  ) 


To  face  page  15S. 


RACALMUTO  159 

"  Let  us  go  to  Racalmuto.  It  is  a  lovely  road, 
and  I  have  never  been  to  see  the  castle  there.  Do 
you  agree  ?" 

They  both  agreed,  and  fell  to  discussing  whether 
Racalmuto — which  has  sixteen  thousand  inhabitants 
— was  better  called  a  large  village  or  a  small  town. 

At  a  few  miles  from  Montedoro  we  crossed  the 
large  sulphur-mines  of  Gibellini,  after  which  the 
road  meanders  amongst  fields  planted  with  almond, 
fig,  and  olive  trees,  and  the  landscape  becomes 
very  hilly. 

As  we  approached  the  town,  we  came  to  a  foun- 
tain, where  women  waited  in  turns  to  fill  their 
pitchers,  and  close  by  washing  was  going  on  in  a 
small  wooden  tank. 

We  crossed  Racalmuto,  meeting  a  flock  of  milk- 
white  goats  in  the  principal  street,  and  still  riding 
on  through  the  silent  little  town,  came  upon  a 
broad,  sunlit  square,  where,  at  a  turning,  the 
medieval  castle  appeared  as  a  surprise,  with  its 
forbidding  towers  and  humble  dwellings  clustering 
around  its  base. 

Alessandro,  who  knew  an  old  priest  here,  sent 
for  him  in  a  summary  fashion,  and  introduced  him 
as  Padre  Giuseppe,  whereupon  I  began  to  inter- 
view him  about  Racalmuto  and  the  castle.     He 


160       SICILIAN  WAYS  AND  DAYS 

told  me  the  name  of  Racalmuto  was  that  of  an 
Arab  city  which  used  long  ago  to  stand  not  far 
from  the  actual  town.  He  also  told  me  that  this 
castle  was  one  of  the  many  built  by  the  famous 
Chiaramonte  family  in  the  fourteenth  century. 
Then,  seeing  how  interested  I  was  in  what  he  said, 
he  told  me  that  on  the  mountain  of  the  Castel- 
luccio  above  Racalmuto  I  should  see  a  still  older 
castle,  which  in  the  thirteenth  century  had  been 
a  fortress  possessed  by  the  same  powerful  family. 
The  view  from  up  there  is  splendid,  he  added,  as, 
with  a  sympathetic  intuition  peculiar  to  Sicilians, 
he  had  already  understood  that  the  view,  added  to 
the  other  attractions,  would  induce  me  to  go  there. 

My  retainers  showed  no  objection  to  the  plan, 
so  we  took  leave  of  the  courteous  old  priest,  and 
began  to  ascend  the  broad  flank  of  Mount  Castel- 
luccio,  where,  by  an  easy  path,  hemmed  on  both 
sides  by  wild  irises  and  small  Alpine  carnations, 
we  arrived  at  the  summit  shortly  before  midday, 
and  found  there  the  enormous  building  closed  in 
by  impenetrable  walls,  which  had  been  a  fortress 
of  the  Chiaramonte  family  in  the  thirteenth 
century. 

From  the  height  where  we  stood,  in  front  of  the 
castle,  we  could  see  in  the  fiery  east  the  enormous 


RACALMUTO  AND  THE  CASTLE."    (Page  150.) 


A  FLOCK  OF  MILK-WHITE  GOATS."    (Page  159.) 


To  face  page  160. 


RACALMUTO  161 

mass  of  snow-covered  Etna,  the  mountains  and 
plains  of  half  Sicily,  and  to  the  south,  glittering  in 
the  sunshine,  was  the  sea,  where  some  white  sails 
glimmered  against  the  horizon  towards  Africa,  in  a 
pure  and  cloudless  sky. 

Racalmuto  lay  in  the  valley  below.  We  could 
see  Girgenti  and  a  dozen  other  towns  and  villages 
scattered  over  a  billowy  succession  of  barren  moun- 
tains and  plains,  without  verdure,  burnt  and  dried 
up  by  the  fierce  summer  heat,  but  breathing  with  a 
wild  and  melancholy  beauty. 

A  small  chapel  belonging  to  the  old  castle  was 
in  the  last  stage  of  abandonment  and  ruin,  and 
completely  deprived  of  all  fittings,  except  the 
curious  stone  altar;  but  in  front  of  it  smiled  one 
of  those  old-fashioned  little  gardens  such  as  ancient 
convents  used  to  have,  with  a  short  avenue  of 
thyme  and  rosemary  smelling  sweet  in  the  sun- 
shine, and  some  pale  roses,  ready  to  scatter  their 
light  petals  in  the  breeze,  under  the  solemn  shade 
of  cypresses,  in  an  atmosphere  breathing  with 
feudality,  which  gave  me  the  charming  impression 
of  having  escaped  far  away  from  all  the  vulgarities 
and  banalities  of  this  conventional  life  of  ours. 

The  castle,  massive  and  imposing,  towering 
straight  above  us,  was  vast  enough  to  have  given 

11 


162       SICILIAN  WAYS  AND  DAYS 

shelter  to  a  whole  village  under  the  rule  and  pro- 
tection of  the  Prince  who  was  lord  of  that  land 
centuries  ago,  when  pirates  sailed  into  those  smiling 
bays  and  attacked  the  peaceful  inhabitants,  who 
lived  and  worked  on  the  flanks  of  the  mountain, 
and  came  up  every  Sunday  to  hear  Mass  in  the 
now  disused  little  chapel. 

Some  glimpses  I  had  of  mysterious  steps  built 
in  the  thickness  of  the  manor  walls,  and  which  led 
no  one  could  tell  me  where,  conjured  up  all  kinds 
of  romantic  and  medieval  adventures ;  but  the  men 
with  me  led  the  horses  into  the  castle  stables,  large 
enough  to  accommodate  eighty  horses,  and  then 
cruelly  dispelled  my  dreams  about  those  mysterious 
back  stairs — there  were  three  different  sets — asking 
me  whether  I  were  not  hungry. 

So  I  followed  them  away  from  the  dazzling 
glare  of  the  midday  sun  to  the  shade  of  the 
little  garden  where,  under  a  climbing  vine,  a  rustic 
stone  table,  with  granite  seats,  seemed  to  wait 
for  us. 

It  was  here,  at  the  foot  of  the  old  fortress,  not  far 
from  the  ruined  chapel,  and  at  the  bottom  of  the 
little  garden,  in  full  view  of  the  immense  land- 
scape of  Southern  Sicily,  in  sight  of  the  glittering 
Mediterranean,  where  the  nearest  land  is  the  land 


RACALMUTO  163 

of  Africa — it  was  in  that  exquisite  spot  that  we  had 
our  lunch. 

Alessandro  spread  a  napkin  on  the  stone  table ; 
the  other  man — Turiddu — took  out  from  his  bag 
an  omelet,  brown  bread,  cheese,  a  small  amphora 
full  of  wine  the  colour  of  Marsala,  and  arranged 
on  some  vine-leaves  a  few  bunches  of  grapes  the 
custodian  of  the  castle  had  sent  for  me. 

This  was  our  lunch,  which  we  ate  with  a  good 
appetite,  seasoned  for  me  with  a  poetic  originality 
arising  from  the  lovely  spot  and  my  picturesque 
companions,  who  not  only  seemed  in  harmony  with 
the  surrounding  scenery,  but  with  their  ease  of 
manner,  absence  of  self-consciousness,  and  natural, 
inborn  courtesy,  appeared  in  my  eyes  as  the  only 
suitable  companions  I  should  have  cared  to  have 
had  that  day. 

^  «  «  «  « 

On  our  way  back,  as  we  were  riding  down  the 
mountain,  baked  by  the  heat  and  blinded  by  the 
glare,  a  rabbit  suddenly  crossed  our  path,  and, 
before  the  men  had  time  to  fire,  went  and  hid 
under  a  high  heap  of  stones ;  the  dogs,  too,  taken 
by  surprise,  rushed  round  and  round  the  heap, 
barking  excitedly. 

The  two  men  immediately  dismounted,  and,  the 

11—2 


164       SICILIAN  WAYS  AND  DAYS 

hunter's  instinct  prompting  them,  consulted  with 
each  other  as  to  the  best  means  of  catching  the 
rabbit. 

One  was  for  going  all  the  way  back  to  Castel- 
luccio,  where  the  custodian  would  lend  him  a 
ferret ;  the  other  put  away  this  plan  as  involving 
too  much  loss  of  time,  and  after  five  minutes  lost 
in  useless  talk,  rolling  off  stones  from  the  heap, 
they  waited,  ready  to  fire. 

Something  unexpected  happened  next.  Putting 
in  his  hand  to  pull  out  a  stone,  Turiddu  grasped 
the  rabbit  instead,  and  pulled  it  out  alive,  which 
was  a  very  tame  ending  to  the  adventure. 

It  was  brought  to  me  to  be  patted,  previous  to 
being  knocked  on  the  head — which  ceremony,  at 
my  earnest  request,  took  place  behind  my  back — 
and  then  we  proceeded  on  our  way  homeward, 
down  the  barren  slope  of  the  mountain,  dazzled 
by  the  scorching  sun,  and  pleased  to  think  we 
should  soon  be  back  in  the  cool  house  at  Monte- 
doro. 

"That  was  a  very  picturesque  old  priest,"  I 
remarked  to  Alessandro — "  the  one  who  explained 
to  me  all  about  Racalmuto,  and  the  castle,  and 
Mount  Castelluccio." 

"If  Voscenza  had  seen  him  in  his   youth,  he 


a    *  »     I    •   .  »'^      » 


A  SMALL  CHAPEL."    (Page  161.) 


CASTLE  OF  THE  CHIARAMONTE  AT  RACALMUTO.    (Page  100.) 


To  face  page  164. 


RACALMUTO  165 

would  have  seemed  more  picturesque  still,"  an- 
swered Alessandro,  "for  in  spite  of  his  being  a 
priest,  he  led  a  wild,  lawless  life.  He  used  to  call 
his  knife  his  crucifix,  and  was  the  constant  friend 
and  compatlion  of  brigands ;  he  was  arrested  as  a 
thief  and  a  murderer  more  than  once,  and  was 
condemned  to  several  years'  banishment,  and  even 
now,  in  his  old  age,  he  is  not  as  quiet  as  he  should 
be,  especially  since  the  Bishop  has  allowed  him 
once  more  to  celebrate  Mass." 

"  Indeed  !"  I  exclaimed,  horror-stricken  ;  "  why, 
then,  did  you  send  for  him  ?  I  don't  care  to  know 
such  people." 

"  I  sent  for  him,"  replied  Alessandro,  "  because 
I  knew  Voscenza  needed  an  intelligent  person  to 
talk  to,  and  he  is  the  only  intelligent  man  in 
Racalmuto  1" 


A  STABBING  FIGHT 

Yesterday,  towards  sunset,  the  last  scene  of 
Cavalleria  Rusticana  was  played  in  real  earnest 
on  the  village  square,  in  a  terribly  sudden  fashion, 
not  even  lacking  the  accessories  of  scenery, 
costumes,  etc. 

Whilst  many  men  were  walking  up  and  down 
the  big  piazza  or  talking  in  the  shade,  no  one  took 
any  notice  of  a  group  of  three  or  four  standing 
rather  apart  and  talking  with  animation. 

Suddenly  their  knives  flashed  out,  a  short,  silent 
struggle  followed,  and  before  anyone  had  the  time 
to  realize  what  was  happening,  two  men,  brothers, 
fell  seriously  wounded,  and  the  murderers,  three 
brothers,  disappeared. 

Then  terrible  cries  and  screams  were  heard  in  all 
the  village ;  they  were  the  cries  of  the  family  of 
the  wounded  brothers  who  had  been  carried  to 
their  house.  These  cries  were  followed  by  those 
of  all  their  neighbours  and  friends,  who,  screaming 

166 


A  STABBING  FIGHT  167 

and  crowding,  rushed  towards  the  house  of  the 
wounded  from  all  parts  of  the  village.  The  piazza 
was  immediately  filled  with  excited  people,  who,  in 
the  midst  of  a  succession  of  screams,  all  rushed 
madly  in  the  same  direction,  gesticulating  frantic- 
ally, the  women — in  spite  of  the  suddenness  of  it 
all — not  forgetting  to  cover  their  heads  with  their 
black  capes.  It  was  an  exact  reproduction  in  real 
life  of  the  cry,  "They  have  killed  compare 
TuridduT  which  so  dramatically  ends  Cavalleria 
Rusticana, 

Suddenly,  at  the  lower  end  of  the  piazza,  I  saw 
the  crowd  fall  back  on  both  sides,  and  the  Mayor 
with  one  of  our  men  appear.  They  held  between 
them  a  young  man  with  black  hair  and  a  pale, 
impassive  countenance.  It  was  one  of  the  mur- 
derers, whom  the  Mayor  had  arrested  as  he  was 
making  off.     His  fingers  were  stained  with  blood. 

They  drew  near,  followed  by  an  awed  and  now 
silent  crowd,  and  led  the  murdere  into  our  casino^ 
just  as  a  young  man  came  running  from  the  stabbed 
men's  house,  and  shouted  across  the  crowd  to  the 
Mayor : 

"  Your  Excellence,  don't  let  him  escape ;  they 
are  dying  !" 

In  the  midst  of  the  confusion  someone  sent  for 


168        SICILIAN  WAYS  AND  DAYS 

the  carabinieri  (military  police),  who  very  soon 
arrived  on  the  spot. 

I  followed  them  into  the  casino,  already  full  of  a 
murmuring,  hostile  crowd,  and  saw  the  Mayor  give 
up  to  them  the  murderer,  who,  still  pale  and  im- 
passive, when  the  Mayor  said  to  him,  "Wretch, 
what  hast  thou  done  ?"  answered  violently,  "  I 
wish  I  had  hit  them  still  more  !" 

The  carabinieri  handcuffed  him,  and  took  him 
away  amidst  the  insults  and  imprecations  of  the 
crowd,  who  now  gradually  scattered  away  in  the 
returning  quiet,  a  group  of  lookers-on  still  standing 
before  the  stabbed  men's  house,  where  the  two 
doctors  had  great  difficulty  in  attending  to  them, 
being  surrounded  and  impeded  in  their  work  by  a 
pack  of  weeping,  shrieking  women,  relations,  and 
friends,  and  a  priest  reciting  prayers  for  the 
dying. 

As  for  the  cause  of  this  dreadful  tragedy,  if 
anyone  were  to  ask  me  for  it,  I  could  only  answer 
with  the  well-known  French  words :  Cherchez  la 
femme  /" 

All  this  happened  so  suddenly  and  unexpectedly, 
it  was  all  so  quickly  over,  that  when,  late  in  the 
night,  I  sat  outside  our  casino,  1  asked  myself 
whether  I  had  not  dreamt  the  fearful  scene  of  the 


"THE  CARABINIERI."     (Page  168.) 


THEY  WAITED,  READY  TO  FIRE."    (Page  164.) 


To  face  page  168. 


>     ^1    ^      -x"- 


A  STABBING  FIGHT  169 

afternoon,  now  the  white  piazza  was  dotted  with 
men  quietly  walking  up  and  down,  talking  to 
each  other  in  hushed  voices  under  the  clear  moon- 
light, in  an  atmosphere  of  coolness,  peace,  and 
silence. 


SULPHUR  MINES  AND  MINERS 

We  have  seen  the  inhabitant  of  Montedoro  take 
an  active  part  in  his  village  festivals  and  religious 
functions  ;  we  have  seen  him  follow  his  curious 
christening,  nuptial,  and  funeral  customs  ;  and  we 
have  also  observed  his  endurance  and  his  poetical 
invocations  when  at  work  in  the  fields. 

And  now,  since  this  is  a  sulphur-mining  district, 
we  shall  turn  our  steps  towards  the  mines,  to 
observe  the  miners  at  their  work,  and  examine 
those  convulsions  of  the  ground  which  usually 
surround  sulphur-mines. 

Although  we  are  still  on  the  outskirts  of  the 
village,  several  entrances  to  the  mines  are  within 
sight,  and  there  are  heaps  of  sulphur  everywhere. 
If  we  go  round  to  the  south  side  of  Montedoro,  we 
shall  see  the  mining  region  hemmed  in  at  the  top 
by  a  row  of  battered,  abandoned  little  houses — 
shapeless,  shattered  buildings,  which  only  increase 
the  forlorn  appearance  of  this  place.     There  are  no 

170 


•    •       *  • .   .     .  ■*    »  V,  »  *    ' 


•SEVERAL  ENTRANCES  TO  THE  MINES."    (Page  170.) 


A  ROW  OF  BATTERED,  ABANDONED  LITTLE  HOUSES."    (Page  170.) 


To, race  page  170. 


SULPHUR  MINES  AND  MINERS    171 

green  cornfields  here,  no  orange  or  almond  groves, 
only  a  reddish,  stony  soil,  the  remains  of  melted 
sulphur. 

Wherever  some  level  space  is  available,  we  see 
sulphur  heaped  up  in  large  square  mounds,  built 
according  to  a  certain  symmetry  to  facilitate  the 
operations  of  measurement  and  payment. 

This  sulphur  is  just  as  it  was  brought  out  of  the 
mine,  the  entrance  of  which  is  closed  by  a  raised 
wooden  gate  opening  on  to  the  first  step  leading 
down.  A  primitive  image  of  St.  Joseph,  the  pro- 
tector of  miners,  is  nailed  on  the  gate.  Some 
mines  have  a  pair  of  horns  set  above  the  door 
against  the  evil-eye. 

All  round  us  the  soil,  red  with  the  remains  of 
melted  sulphur,  and  cut  up  into  small  hills  and 
ravines  by  the  construction  of  calcheroni^  seems  to 
have  been  rent  by  continual  earthquakes. 

The  mineral  heaped  about  us  displays  the 
yellow  colour  of  the  sulphur  partly  mixed  with 
earth. 

Here  and  there,  between   us  and  the  horizon, 

a  calclierone  lifts  its  round  head,  slightly  flattened 

at  the  top,  with  its  broad  flanks,  from  which  rises  a 

bluish,  vapoury  smoke,  which  stifles  and  burns  the 

*  Mounds  of  sulphur  to  be  melted. 


172        SICILIAN  WAYS  AND  DAYS 

eyes  of  the  thoughtless  who  are  so  rash  as  to  pass 
too  near. 

But  where  are  the  workmen  who  have  dug  out 
and  brought  up  all  this  wealth  lying  about  or  melt- 
ing in  the  calcheroni  ? 

Let  us  draw  near  to  this  door  and  look  in.  At 
the  bottom  of  this  black  gulf  we  can  just  see  a 
miner's  lamp,  and  we  begin  to  hear  a  distant  sound 
of  groans,  and  at  last  we  see  the  first  of  the  miner 
boys — the  carusi,  as  they  are  called — laden  with  ore, 
which  they  carry  on  their  backs  inside  a  coarse  sack. 

They  come  up  in  sad  procession,  mounting  with 
difficulty  the  steps  dug  out  in  the  earth  alter- 
nately on  right  and  left,  stooping  under  the 
weight,  their  faces  and  breasts  covered  with  per- 
spiration. As  they  draw  near  to  the  top,  and  from 
the  darkness  of  the  mine  emerge  into  the  sunshine, 
we  can  see  their  little  thin,  sparely-built,  half- 
naked  bodies,  their  pale  faces  expressive  of  suffer- 
ing. But  most  of  all  our  heart  is  saddened  at  the 
sight  of  their  naked  breasts  streaming  with  per- 
spiration, and  panting  violently  at  the  effort  of 
climbing  up  the  steep  stairway  of  the  mine,  and  at 
the  sound  of  the  painful  groan  which  irresistibly 
escapes  from  their  mouths  at  every  ascending  step 
which  leads  them  to  the  top. 


A  PAIR  OF  HORNS  SET  ABOVE  THE  DOOR."    (Page  171.) 


"A  'CALCHERONE'  LIFTS  ITS  ROUND  HEAD."    (Page  171.) 


To  face  page  172. 


SULPHUR  MINES  AND  MINERS    173 

As  soon  as  they  are  out  of  the  mine  they  run  to 
empty  their  sacks,  each  on  his  own  mound  ;  then, 
without  taking  a  minute  to  breathe,  they  throw  the 
empty  sacks  on  their  shoulders,  and  with  bowed 
head  and  downcast  expression  re-enter  the  mine, 
and  run  nimbly  down  the  steps  in  silent,  single 
file,  disappearing  noiselessly  down  that  black  gulf, 
which  swallows  up  their  young  hfe,  deforms  their 
bodies,  and  gives  rise  in  their  childish  hearts  to 
wild  instincts  of  wickedness  and  immorality. 
•3f  4e-  »  «  « 

Let  us  now  descend  into  the  mine,  taking  care 
not  to  slip  as  we  go  down.  We  find  after  a 
few  steps  a  Uttle  niche  dug  in  the  earth  on  one 
side ;  they  have  stuck  in  it  a  coloured  image  of  the 
Madonna  of  the  Rosary,  who  enjoys  great  fame 
here,  and  in  front  of  it  burns  a  little  earthenware 
miner's  lamp.  What  does  it  matter  if  the  piconiere 
(miner)  steals  and  swears,  tortures  the  carusi,  gets 
drunk,  and  handles  his  knife  too  freely?  This 
does  not  prevent  his  expecting  the  Madonna  of  the 
Rosary  to  lend  her  protecting  aid  to  the  mine  and 
its  workmen. 

After  going  down  some  two  hundred  steps,  our 
knees,  not  at  all  used  to  this  kind  of  gymnastics, 
are  quite  stiff,  and  we  arrive  at  the  avanzamento. 


174       SICILIAN  WAYS  AND  DAYS 

the  name  they  give  to  the  spot  where  the  sulphur 
is  being  extracted. 

By  the  Ught  of  their  httle  acetylene  lamps  set 
upon  projecting  rocks,  the  piconieri,  half  naked, 
covered  with  perspiration,  their  expression  stern 
and  dogged,  attack  with  their  pickaxe  the  sulphur 
wall  before  them,  which,  like  an  impenetrable 
sphynx,  must  have  its  breast  torn  open  before  it 
yields  its  secret. 

In  several  directions,  some  black  holes  lead  into 
smaller  galleries,  where  one  passes  with  difficulty, 
and  which  lead  into  other  places  of  work;  here 
and  there  wooden  scaffoldings  or  rude  masonry 
sustain  the  weak  or  empty  parts.  The  sepulchral 
silence  of  this  gloomy  place  is  only  broken  by  the 
smothered  thuds  of  the  pickaxe,  and  by  the  groans, 
weakened  by  the  distance,  of  the  carusi,  who  are 
reascending  out  of  the  mine. 

The  heartrending  sight  of  this  overpowering 
work  preys  upon  us  cruelly  as,  perplexed,  we 
reascend  slowly,  to  see  once  more  the  sun 
smiling  upon  the  distant  fields  and  upon  the 
desolation  of  the  mining  region  swarming  with 
sickly-looking  carusi,  and  we  ponder  upon  the 
salary  of  these  humble  workers  and  of  the  piconieri, 
upon  the   influence  which   this   hard  work  must 


"COMING  UP  IN  SAD  PROCESSION."    (Page  172.) 


fi.',      :-^, 


RE-ENTERING  THE  MINE. "    (Pago  173.) 


To  face  page  174. 


SULPHUR  MINES  AND  MINERS    175 

have  on  them  from  a  physical  and  moral  point  of 
view.  ... 

«  «  »  *  « 

No  man  can  become  a  piconiere*  before  he  is 
eighteen,  but  oftener  he  waits  until  he  has  come 
back  from  his  military  service,  to  which  he  is  called 
at  twenty. 

His  day's  work  is  of  eight  hours,  during  which 
time  he  digs  out  a  little  more  than  a  cubic  metre 
of  sulphur,  and  his  salary  varies  from  2  francs  to 
3.25  a  day,  according  to  the  amount  he  extracts. 

The  piconiere  feeds  very  sparingly  during  his 
working  hours,  making  a  few  meals  composed  of 
bread  alone,  or  with  anchovies,  cheese,  onions, 
olives,  or  fruit. 

Once  his  work  is  done  he  has  at  his  house  his 
chief  meal,  generally  boiled  vegetables  seasoned 
with  oil. 

On  Sundays  the  piconiere  eats  much  better :  he 
gets  maccheroni,  meat,  and  wine,  and  then,  as  if 
that  were  not  enough,  he  goes  out  with  his  friends, 
and  has  various  meals  at  all  the  taverns  in  the 
place,  generally  ending  the  day  with  a  tipsy  brawl. 

As   a   rule,  he  marries  very  young,  and   upon 

*  My  best  thanks  to  Ingegnere  Messana,  to  whom  I  am 
indebted  for  these  items  of  information. 


176       SICILIAN  WAYS  AND  DAYS 

becoming  a  widower,  he  marries  again  at  once, 
and  it  must  be  acknowedged,  he  prides  himself 
upon  his  family  lacking  nothing  as  regards  food  and 
clothing  ;  but  his  Oriental  blood  reappears  when 
he  shuts  up  his  wife  and  daughters  in  the  house, 
never  letting  them  get  out,  not  even  on  the 
occasion  of  some  festival,  preferring  in  this  case 
to  amuse  himself  with  his  friends  after  his  own 
fashion,  inviting  them  or  being  invited  by  them, 
to  drink  in  this  or  that  tavern,  vieing  with  each 
other  as  to  who  shall  pay  most,  until  one  is  more 
drunk  than  the  other. 

But  even  in  this  state  he  respects  friendship — so 
much  so  that  he  will  pride  himself  upon  being 
arrogant  and  quarrelsome  with  a  third  party  who 
would  dare  to  molest  his  companion,  especially  if 
the  latter  happens  to  be  his  compare. 

The  influence  of  the  special  work  to  which  he  is 
subjected  leads  the  piconiere  towards  an  ever- 
increasing  lowering  of  his  better  self,  even  to  the 
complete  annihilation  of  his  moral  sense.  We  see 
him  in  the  mine  deceive  or  rob  the  stern  overseer 
who  directs  the  works ;  in  the  village  he  is  given 
to  drink,  to  gambling  when  playing  cards,  and  to 
squandering  all  he  has  earned  during  the  week. 
He  very  rarely  thinks  of  putting  something  aside 


*     •  ••   • 


"THE  CARUSI."    (Page] 78.) 


THE  STERN  OVERSEER."    (Page  176.) 


To  face  page  176. 


SULPHUR  MINES  AND  MINERS    177 

for  the  future ;  he  leads  in  the  mine  such  a  hard 
life  that  he  tries,  when  out  of  it,  to  forget  its 
hardships,  drinking,  eating,  and  amusing  himself 
after  his  own  fashion.  He  is  very  ambitious  in 
his  way  of  dressing,  and  is  often  seen  on  Sundays 
arrayed  in  fine  black  cloth,  with  patent-leather 
top-boots  and  large  hooded  cloak  of  fine  dark 
cloth  lined  with  green. 

Although  very  respectful  and  submissive  with 
his  superiors  as  long  as  he  is  in  the  mine,  once  he 
is  back  in  the  village  he  becomes  proud  and  over- 
bearing, quarrelsome,  and  provocative.  If,  how- 
ever, an  accident  were  to  happen  in  the  mine,  such 
as  the  falling  in  'of  scaffoldings  or  stones,  or  the 
explosion  of  gas — a  very  rare  occurrence — we  see 
him  turn  into  a  hero,  risking  his  own  life  to  save 
that  of  his  fellow- workers.  A  piconiere  has  never 
been  known  to  desert  the  mine  at  the  moment  of 
a  catastrophe,  and  in  his  efforts  to  save  his 
comrades  has  often  remained  a  victim  to  his  own 
courage. 

Miners  are  all  religious — after  their  own  fashion, 
however.  A  piconiere  does  not  miss  hearing  Mass 
on  Sundays,  even  if  his  attention  in  church  be 
taken  up  by  anything  but  the  religious  ceremony. 
But  his  faith  is  Umited  to  the  manifestations  of 

12 


178       SICILIAN  WAYS  AND  DAYS 

external  worship,  which  bear  much  resemblance  to 
pagan  rites ;  we  find  him  inclined  to  religious 
fanaticism,  to  liberal  gifts  of  money  to  the  saints, 
and  he  always  contributes  to  pompous  festivals  in 
honour  of  the  same,  generally  ending  up,  however, 
with  some  bloody  quarrel. 

In  most  mining  districts  the  piconieri  collect 
rather  high  sums  amongst  themselves,  each  giving 
in  proportion  to  his  salary,  thus  contributing 
largely  to  the  festa  of  the  local  patron  saint. 

»  «  ^  -Sf  * 

And  the  cm^usi  ?  These  forlorn  creatures  are 
enrolled  as  soon  as  they  are  ten  years  old  for  work 
outside,  and  at  fourteen  for  work  inside,  the  mine. 

This  was  brought  about  by  the  law — voted  on 
March  30,  1893 — before  which  it  was  customary  to 
see  little  boys  of  seven  or  eight  at  work  outside  the 
mine,  and  inside  the  mine,  boys  under  ten  years  of 
age. 

But  although  this  law  is  meant  to  better  the 
state  of  things,  it  has  only  partly  done  so,  for  we 
still  frequently  see  carusi  over  eighteen  no  better 
grown  than  a  boy  of  twelve,  with  hollow  chest,  one 
shoulder  or  hip  in  full  deviation,  crooked  legs,  an 
earthy  complexion  peculiar  to  all  sulphur -miners, 
and  the  most  evident  signs  of  a  rickety  constitu- 


>        0      .        ♦     ,» 


SULPHUR  MOUNDS,  CAUUEU  '  CALCIIERONI.'"    (Page  1S2.) 


ROUGH  ORE,  BEING  CARRIED  BY  SPECIAL  WORKMEN."    (Page  182.) 


To  face  page  17 


SULPHUR  MINES  AND  MINERS    179 

tion,  of  consumption  and  idiocy ;  moreover,  there 
are  numerous  humpbacks  amongst  them.  It  is 
useless  to  add  that  they  are  almost  always  unfit  for 
military  service,  as  they  very  rarely  attain  the 
regulation  height. 

The  carusi  depend  exclusively  upon  the  piconiere 
who  has  enrolled  them — I  was  going  to  say  bought 
them — by  means  of  a  sum  of  money  called  soccorso 
(help)  paid  by  him  to  the  boy's  family.  This  sum 
varies  from  50  to  150  francs  for  each  caruso,  and  is 
never  paid  back,  except  when  the  caruso  leaves  his 
piconiere  to  go  and  work  with  another,  a  very  rare 
occurrence. 

In  exchange  for  this  sum  of  money,  however, 
the  boy  is  placed  at  the  piconiere' s  disposal,  and  is 
treated  by  him  as  his  own  goods  and  chattels. 

The  caruso  is  not  supposed  to  part  from  his 
piconiere  without  first  refunding  him  the  sum  paid 
to  his  family ;  this  restitution  can  only  be  effected 
at  the  end  of  each  month,  or  rather,  at  the  time 
of  the  monthy  payment  of  salary,  for  the  caruso 
cannot  leave  his  piconiere  in  the  intervals  between 
one  payment  and  another,  not  even  by  refunding 
the  soccorso. 

The  carusi — every  piconiere  has  three  or  four — 
work  for  the  same  number  of  hours  as  he  does,  and 

]2— 2 


180        SICILIAN  WAYS  AND  DAYS 

at  every  journey  out  of  the  mine  carry  on  their 
shoulders  a  sack  of  mineral  weighing  from  20  to 
65  kilos.  They  earn  from  1.25  to  2.50  francs  a  day, 
paid  to  them  by  their  own  piconiere,  according  to 
the  quantity  of  sulphur  they  have  carried  out. 
The  boys  who  work  outside  at  filling  or  emptying 
calchero7ii,  or  Gill  furnaces,  do  not  belong  to  any 
piconiere;  they  are  treated  like  usual  workmen, 
and  earn  from  80  c.  to  1.50  francs  a  day. 

In  the  mine  the  carusi  eat  still  more  scantily 
than  the  piconieri,  having  bread  alone,  and  in  the 
village  they  fare  no  better,  for  when  they  go  home 
in  the  evening  they  only  get  the  usual  boiled 
vegetables,  and  perhaps,  from  time  to  time,  mac- 
cheroni  and  a  little  wine.  They  never  touch  meat, 
and  live  chiefly  on  greens.  After  being  often 
treated  very  cruelly  by  the  piconiere  in  the  mine, 
on  Sundays  he  gives  them  wine  and  cigars  as  a  sort 
of  compensation. 

As  we  have  seen  already,  physically,  this  sort  of 
life  disposes  them  fatally  to  become  rickety  and 
deformed  ;  but  morally,  the  suppression  of  all  good 
instincts  could  not  be  greater,  for  they  grow  up 
with  the  same  bad  tendencies  as  the  piconieri,  only 
with  a  more  general  and  complete  breakdown  of 
their  human  nature,  on  account  of  their  youth  and 


LARGE  LOAVES  CALLED  'PAXOTTI.  '     (Page  ls2.> 


LARGE  RECTANGULAR  WOODEX  MOULDS."    (Page  183.) 


To  face  page  180. 


SULPHUR  MINES  AND  MINERS    181 

of  their  life  of  perpetual  slavery.  Being  thus  in- 
exorably deprived  of  childishness,  and  accustomed 
as  they  are  to  this  unhappy  life,  many  married 
carusi  have,  as  companions  in  this  hard  work,  their 
own  tender  little  sons.* 

After  thirty  years  of  age,  the  caruso  remains  a 
caruso  all  his  life,  either  from  inability  to  do  the 
exhausting  work  of  a  piconiere,  or  from  want  of 
a  small  capital,  necessary  to  whoever  wishes  to 
become  sipiconiere. 

It  will  be  seen  by  this  that  there  are  carusi  of  all 
ages,  but  the  majority  is  composed  of  boys — poor 
unfortunate  creatures,  ruined  in  soul  and  body,  to 
whom  a  ray  of  hope  never  smiles,  deprived  of  the 
joyful  thoughtlessness  belonging  to  their  age,  living 
only  for  that  terrible  work  which  overtaxes  their 
tender  capacities,  and  binds  them  fatally  as  in 
fetters  of  iron,  whilst  in  their  hearts  rise  and  grow 
fierce  instincts  of  rebellion  and  wickedness,  germs 
of  unconscious  hatred,  perverted  tendencies. 

Of  them  one  can  truly  say  that  they  are  abandoned 
by  God  and  by  men ! 


*  Now  that,  in  all  the  most  important  mines  of  Sicily,  the 
sulphur  is  brought  out  by  machinery,  the  demand  for  carusi  has 
much  decreased. 


182       SICILIAN  WAYS  AND  DAYS 

A  few  words  now  on  the  sulphur-melting  process 
such  as  it  takes  place  in  the  mining  regions  of 
Montedoro,  which  we  are  describing,  and  where 
the  extraction  is  carried  on  still  in  primitive 
fashion,  with  no  machinery,  trolleys  on  lines,  or 
electric  light,  all  of  which  are  used  in  the  large 
mines  around  Caltanissetta. 

The  rough  ore  heaped  on  the  ground,  and  still 
mixed  with  stones  and  earth  just  as  it  comes  out  of 
the  mine,  is  carried  by  special  workmen  to  a  large 
circular  hole  dug  out  beneath  the  level  of  the 
ground  and  surrounded,  in  its  lowest  parts,  by 
masonry.  The  solid  ore  is  deposited  in  this  place, 
but  all  the  rest  of  the  mineral — the  earth  mixed 
with  small  sulphur — is  moistened  with  water 
brought  in  pitchers  on  a  mule,  and  made  up  into 
thousands  of  large  loaves  called  panotti.  They  are 
put  to  dry  in  the  sun,  and  as  soon  as  they  are 
sufficiently  hard  they  are  heaped  in  the  circular 
space  with  all  the  rest  of  the  ore.  It  is  all  built 
into  a  high  heap,  very  broad  at  the  base,  of  the 
average  height  of  a  one-floor  house.  These  large 
sulphur  mounds,  thus  prepared  for  melting,  are 
called  cakheroni. 

The  smoke  of  burning  sulphur  damages  the 
vegetation   round,   corn   and   almonds   especially ; 


WATER  BROUGHT  IN  PITCHERS  ON  A  MULE.    (Page  182.) 


PALE  VELLDW  BLOCKS  CALLED  'BALATE.'"    (Page  183.) 


To  face  page  182. 


SULPHUR  MINES  AND  MINERS    183 

for  this  reason  it  is  forbidden  to  begin  to  melt 
sulphur  before  July  1,  as  by  then  the  harvest 
is  well  over,  and  the  almonds  are  ready  to  be 
picked. 

On  that  day  they  set  fire  to  the  catcher oni — and 
to  the  Gill  furnaces  which  are  beginning  to  supplant 
them — by  laying  on  their  summit  a  burning 
wreath  of  dry  herbs  previously  dipped  in  liquid 
sulphur. 

For  several  weeks  the  process  of  smelting  down 
takes  place  quietly  inside  the  calcherone,  but  after 
this  time  the  man  who  guards  it,  and  who  is  called 
arditore  (burner),  makes  a  slit  at  the  base,  and  a 
brown,  boiling  liquid  begins  to  run  out,  violently  at 
first,  gradually  calming  down  into  a  slow  but  steady 
trickle  of  Uquid  sulphur. 

The  arditore  receives  it  in  large  rectangular 
wooden  moulds  called  gavite,  which  he  draws  out, 
when  full,  to  dry  in  the  sun.  When  this  sulphur 
has  hardened,  it  comes  out  of  the  gavite  in  pale 
yellow  blocks  called  balate,  which  the  arditore 
arranges  in  long  rows. 

Now  that  progress  has  reached  even  Montedoro, 
the  catcher  one  is  falling  into  disuse,  and  sulphur  is 
melted  in  the  Gill  furnaces,  so  called  after  their 
inventor,  an  Englishman  ;  every  mine  here  has  them 


184      SICILIAN  WAYS  AND  DAYS 

now.  The  melting  process  goes  on  quicker  in  them  ; 
they  consist  of  four  cells  filled  with  sulphur,  which 
are  ingeniously  constructed  so  as  to  light  each  other 
in  succession,  and  as  a  comparatively  small  quantity 
is  burned  in  each  cell,  the  risks  run  are  less  than 
with  the  cahherone. 

The  life  of  the  arditore  is  no  better  than  the 
piconiere's  as  far  as  hardship  is  concerned;  being 
obliged  to  remain  several  hours  at  a  time  at  the 
furnace-mouth  to  receive  the  sulphur  in  the  gavite, 
he  continually  breathes  the  hot,  pungent  sulphuric 
exhalations,  and  when  leaving  his  work,  he  passes 
from  the  hot  atmosphere  of  the  furnace-mouth 
into  the  cold  windy  air.  All  this  condemns  him 
fatally  to  chest  diseases,  and  he  is  almost  always 
affected  by  chronic  cough. 

Passing  a  calche?^one  or  a  Gill  furnace  at  night, 
one  has  glimpses  of  the  beautiful  blue  flames  from 
which  escapes  the  burning  golden  fluid  under  the 
vigilance  of  the  arditori ;  they  generally  wear  red 
handkerchiefs  about  their  heads,  and  their  flushed 
faces  are  covered  with  perspiration ;  overcome  by 
that  heated  atmosphere,  some  can  be  heard  swearing, 
and  some  singing,  as  they  watch  over  the  melting 
process. 

When    quite    hard,    the    sulphur    squares    are 


y 

^L 

F^^^^^BHH^jjj^HfcpMHV^^^^ 

THE  SULPHUR  SQUARES  ARE  WEIGHED.  '     (Page  lS-1.) 


"WOODEN  MOULD  CONTAINING  LIQUID  SULPHUR.'     (Page  183.) 


To  face  page  184. 


SULPHUR  MINES  x\ND  MINERS    185 

weighed  on  antediluvian  scales  and  carried  off  in 
carts  to  the  railway-station  of  Serradifalco. 

One  evening,  returning  from  a  walk  on  the 
surrounding  hills,  which  basked  peacefully  in  the 
autumn  sunset,  as  we  came  nearer  to  Montedoro, 
we  had  to  cross  the  mining  district  which  encircles 
the  village  in  a  belt  of  smoking  cakheroni  and 
Gill  furnaces,  convulsions  of  the  soil,  shattered, 
broken-down  little  houses  and  desolation,  very 
similar  to  one  of  Dante's  infernal  circles. 

We  turned  our  steps  towards  a  piece  of  ground 
we  have  near  the  village,  still  virgin  of  those 
colourless  remains  of  earth  and  stones  which  are  the 
sign  of  sulphur  extraction. 

Formerly,  every  spring,  this  piece  of  ground  was 
covered  with  green  corn,  and  in  June,  as  if  proud 
of  its  golden  raiment,  it  spread  out  in  the  sun 
undulating  waves  of  tall,  ripe  corn. 

This  year,  however,  it  has  followed  the  fate 
common  to  most  pieces  of  ground  here :  it  was 
condemned  to  become  a  mine,  and  some  modern 
Cyclops  have  dug  out  the  slanting  well  whence 
the  ore  will  soon  be  carried  out. 

As  soon  as  we  came  in  sight  of  this  new  mine, 
in  spite  of  the  waning  daylight,  we  could  see  the 
black  heaps  of  stones  and  earth  which  the  piconieri 


186     SICILIAN  WAYS  AND  DAYS 

had  extracted,  and  which  the  poor  carusi  had 
thrown  about  the  hole,  around  which  stood  a  small 
crowd  of  men  and  boys  all  still  and  silent,  as  if 
horror-stricken. 

Irresolute  and  perplexed,  we  considered  that  silent 
group  which  under  the  darkening  sky  stood  out  on 
the  barren  stretch  of  land. 

I  was  struck  by  the  silence  of  these  people.  If 
there  had  been  a  quarrel,  we  should  have  seen  signs 
of  animation — indeed,  signs  of  joy — if  this  crowd 
had  collected  there  for  the  first  apparition  of  sulphur 
in  the  mine,  always  an  event  for  the  people  ;  but 
standing  still  as  they  did,  these  men  appeared  to 
me  in  the  dusk  like  mute,  mysterious  phantoms. 

The  man  who  was  with  us  had  understood,  and 
said,  "An  accident  has  happened." 

When  we  drew  near,  and  as  soon  as,  in  the  dim 
twilight,  the  group  of  men  recognized  us,  they 
greeted  us  silently,  and  moved  aside  to  let  us  see. 

I  then  recognized  the  oldest  of  the  piconieri  of 
this  new  mine,  whom  I  had  often  come  to  watch  at 
his  work,  stretched  on  the  ground,  pale  and  still,  in 
a  dead  faint :  his  leg  was  broken. 

An  enormous  mass  of  stones  and  earth  in  the 
upper  part  of  the  cavern  where  he  worked,  had 
become  loose  and  fallen  over  him. 


,•  *  *    *   • 


GILL  FURNACES.    (Page  183. 


EVERY  MINE  HAS  THESE  GILL  FURNACES  NOVV.^     (Page  183.) 


I 


To  face  page  186. 


SULPHUR  MINES  AND  MINERS    187 

His  companion,  who  with  difficulty  had  carried 
him  out,  with  his  bare  chest  and  face  bathed  in 
perspiration,  looked  at  him,  an  expression  of 
intense  anxiety  on  his  face  as  he  bent  over  him, 
holding  one  of  their  humble  miners'  lamps,  the 
flame  of  which  oscillated  in  the  evening  wind, 
and  cast  strange  shadows  on  the  white  face 
of  the  injured  piconiere.  All  kept  silent ;  night 
descended,  black  and  inexorable,  on  that  wildly 
pathetic  scene,  and  close  by,  on  the  Calvary  hill, 
the  large,  black  cross,  scarcely  visible  in  the  dusk, 
stretched  out  its  arms  over  the  group,  as  for  a 
promise  of  mercy. 


SANTA  LUCIA'S  FESTIVAL 

December  13  being  Santa  Lucia's  vigil,  to  com- 
memorate her  in  a  fitting  manner,  the  usual 
enormous  drums  were  beaten  incessantly  through 
the  village  during  the  whole  day. 

I  could  not  but  admire  the  delight  with  which 
the  villagers  heard  the  loud  drumming,  and 
remembered  that  any  kind  of  rhythmical  noise 
gives  pleasure  to  children  and  to — savages  1 

Half  an  hour  after  sunset  we  heard  great  shouts, 
and  hurried  out  on  the  big  piazza  to  see  the  sight. 

A  long,  disorderly  procession  of  men,  boys,  and 
children  was  rushing  down  a  street  in  wild 
confusion. 

They  each  carried  a  thick  bunch  of  long  straws, 
all  afire,  brandishing  them  and  waving  them  about 
over  their  heads  as  they  rushed  along  shouting, 
scampering,  stumbling  over  each  other,  hastening 
along  in  the  wildest  disorder,  as  if  escaping  from 
some  danger.     The    darkness    of    the  night   was 

188 


SANTA  LUCIA'S  FESTIVAL         189 

lighted  up  by  this  savage  procession  of  dancing, 
flaming  torches,  whilst  bonfires  in  all  the  side-streets 
gave  the  illusion  that  the  whole  village  was 
burning. 

Whilst  this  yelling  population  was  passing  on  in 
the  manner  I  have  described,  the  dull  thunder- 
beat  of  the  drums  approached,  and  the  tail  of  the 
procession  appeared:  the  image  of  Santa  Lucia, 
holding  a  dish  which  contains  her  eyes.  This 
image  was  nailed  on  to  a  pole  and  carried  high  by 
a  privileged  person,  whilst  the  two  fierce-looking 
drummers  drummed  away  for  dear  life,  one  on 
each  side. 

The  capers,  yells,  and  waving  fiery  torches  went 
on  worse  than  elsewhere  around  the  saint  as  she 
was  carried  along  at  a  quick  pace,  the  drums  keep- 
ing up  with  her,  never  ceasing  to  beat  wildly. 

At  the  top  of  the  street  the  moving  torches 
turned  round  the  corner,  and  we  went  to  see  them 
come  down  another  street,  full  of  bonfires  ;  and  the 
sight  of  it  all — boys  fighting  with  their  flaming 
torches,  yelling  madly ;  in  the  background,  women 
draped  in  their  black  mantelUne,  looking  on  ;  dark- 
faced  men  rushing  along,  holding  their  burning 
faggot  anyhow,  and  shouting  hoarsely  around  the 
image  of  the  saint,  dimly  seen  through  the  smoke 


190       SICILIAN  WAYS  AND  DAYS 

— all  put  me  in  mind  of  a  heathen  festival  amongst 
savage  tribes. 

In  the  middle  of  the  wide  piazza  a  mountain  of 
straw  as  large  as  a  house  had  been  prepared.  The 
excited  populace  crowded  round  it,  and  then,  from 
the  other  extremity  of  the  piazza,  the  wild  proces- 
sion began  to  file  down,  piercing  the  blackness  of 
the  night  with  a  dancing  mass  of  flames,  the  air 
being  full  of  screams  which  the  drumming  did  not 
cover. 

As  the  procession  approached,  everyone  threw  on 
the  big  heap  of  straw  his  own  burning  torch ;  this 
set  fire  to  it,  and  tall  flames  began  to  ascend  in  the 
darkness  as  the  procession  still  came  up  in  a 
blinding,  confusing  rush  of  flames,  yells,  smoke,  and 
incessant  drumming. 

Presently  the  saint  marched  briskly  up  with 
undignified  haste,  and  was  held  in  a  suitable  spot 
from  where  she  could  best  enjoy  the  gigantic  bon- 
fire, which  was  getting  larger  and  larger,  whilst  the 
drummers,  one  on  each  side,  never  ceased  beating, 
and  the  men  and  boys  never  ceased  yelling  and 
jumping. 

The  fire  was  now  so  large  that  all  the  surrounding 
houses  were  hghted  up,  and  the  faces  in  the  crowd 
plainly  visible. 


9       1 


1-^ 

^r- '""'"    ;^ 

H 

^^i 

hKmw  '     !■    f'l ""    ^M   II 

m 

■^ 

T 

___■«£  •*- 

^lT| 

--^ 

flB^ttSj^r-^    '  ~  1 

1^?^ 

'  THE  YOUNGEST  WAS  BLIND."    (Page  192.) 


'BROKEN-DOWN  LITTLE  HOUSES."    (Page  1S5.) 


To  face  page  190. 


SANTA  LUCIA'S  FESTIVAL        191 

Several  men  who  used  long  sticks  to  stir  up  the 
bonfire  had  bright  red  handkerchiefs  tied  about 
their  faces  to  keep  away  the  sparks,  and  as  they 
poked  their  sticks  into  the  flames  and  yelled  to 
each  other,  they  made  one  think  of  devils  mending 
the  fires  in  the  infernal  regions. 

In  the  midst  of  it  all,  an  old  man  who  plays  on 
the  bagpipe  sat  in  a  dark  corner  of  the  piazza,  in 
front  of  his  little  house,  playing  a  wheezy  tune, 
dimly  heard  in  the  confusion,  for  Santa  Lucia's 
benefit ! 

The  strange  ceremony  was  not  long-lived,  how- 
ever, for  the  smoke,  fire  and  noise  gradually  died 
away,  and  with  the  last  expiring  flame  all  returned 
to  darkness,  the  yelling,  capering  crowd  glided 
away  in  the  gloomy  by-streets,  the  drums  accom- 
panied the  saint  back  to  church,  the  piper  dis- 
appeared into  his  little  house  and  shut  the  door 
— silence  and  darkness  were  restored  where  a 
minute  before  a  pageant  which  had  something 
barbaric  about  it  had  filled  the  place  with  noise, 
fire,  smoke  and  confusion.  Where  the  glorious 
bonfire  had  been  nothing  remained  but  a  heap  of 
black,  smouldering  ashes.  .  .  . 


CHRISTMAS 

Christmas  at  Montedoro  is  a  sad  time  for  anyone 
new  to  the  ways  and  general  atmosphere  of  the 
place,  but  a  year  here,  with  the  various  impressions 
the  various  seasons  brought  with  them,  made  us 
feel  less  despondent  at  the  Christmastide  we  passed, 
and  two  things  especially  made  up  for  it — the 
bright,  life-giving  sunshine  and  the  novena  singers. 

Nine  days  before  Christmas  two  men  came  down 
from  a  still  more  remote  mountain  village  to  sing 
the  novena  here,  playing  their  own  accompaniment 
on  a  cello  and  a  violin.  One  of  these  men — the 
youngest — was  blind  ;  they  stopped  before  every 
house  in  the  village,  and  sang  a  rambling  old  song 
of  nine  stanzas,  telling  of  the  journey  to  Bethlehem 
and  of  the  birth  of  the  Child  Jesus. 

It  is  very  much  in  the  style  of  the  old  Christmas 
carols  sung  in  England,  but  the  melody,  like  most 
Sicilian  ones,  is  in  a  minor  key,  the  accompaniment 
soft,  and  the  general  effect  pleasing,  if  sad. 

192 


CHRISTMAS  193 

The  men  went  from  house  to  house  singing  the 
mournful  strain,  which  —  unless  you  knew,  you 
would  never  guess  it — tells  the  joyful  news  of  the 
birth  of  Jesus. 

They  began  at  dawn  and  went  on  until  sunset, 
with  short  rests.  All  day  long  the  melancholy 
dirge  was  sung  round  the  village,  house  after  house, 
always  the  same  minor  tune,  the  words  being 
different  every  day,  so  that  in  nine  days  the  whole 
song  was  sung  out,  hence  its  name  of  novena. 

The  singers  were  generally  followed  in  their 
pilgrimage  around  the  village  by  a  crowd  of  children 
with  shawls  on  their  heads.  They  did  not  stop  for 
pennies,  but  went  from  house  to  house  ;  it  was  only 
on  Christmas  Day  that  they  reaped  their  reward  for 
having  sung  to  each  poor  family  in  the  place  the 
old  story  of  Christmas.  But  everyone  is  poor 
here,  so  that  they  did  not  get  more  than  a  few 
pence  from  every  house  on  Christmas  morning. 
The  gentlefolk,  however — there  are  only  about 
three  such  families  here — gave  a  franc  each,  which 
was  considered  a  very  generous  donation. 

I  never  got  tired  of  hearing,  the  first  thing  in 
the  morning,  the  sad  melody  and  the  simple, 
ingenuous  words,  and  I  often  looked  out  of  the 
window  to  see  them  at  a  short  distance,  grouped 

IS 


194       SICILIAN  WAYS  AND  DAYS 

before  a  house,  singing  their  stanzas,  well  muffled 
in  shawls,  for  the  air  is  cold  in  spite  of  the  bright 
sunshine ;  the  women  and  girls  at  a  little  fountain 
close  by  put  down  their  high  pitchers  and  stopped 
to  listen,  in  statuesque  attitudes,  draped  in  their 
black-cloth  mantelline,  which  go  over  the  head 
and  around  the  shoulders,  and  hide  half  the  face. 
The  flat,  white  houses  all  round,  the  pure  sky 
overhead,  gave  an  Oriental  setting  to  the  scene. 

Another  pretty  feature  of  the  Christmas  season 
here  is  the  novena  sung  in  some  of  the  village 
houses  for  nine  evenings  before  Christmas.  The 
women  of  the  family  and  their  neighbours  take 
great  pleasure  in  building  up  a  kind  of  altar  in  the 
room,  adorning  it  in  the  tawdry  fashion  which,  to 
their  untutored  eyes,  stands  for  beauty,  everyone, 
down  to  the  very  children,  contributing  a  faded 
paper  flower  or  a  piece  of  silver-gilt  paper.  At 
night  the  altar  is  lighted  up  and  the  novena 
sung  in  front  of  it  by  as  many  women  as  can 
crowd  in. 

We  went  one  evening  to  a  house  where  the 
novena  was  supposed  to  be  exceptionally  good,  to 
witness  the  whole  performance;  our  appearance 
was  greeted  with  much  rejoicing  and  friendly 
smiles,  and  chairs  were  at  once  provided  for  us 


t      •  •  •      '' 

••    «  «  •    • 

,  •  »  •  •  ■ 

•      •  •  • 


r 


•     «         IS 

'»    »  o   "  . 


A  nL'MBLE   DWELLING.     (T Age  193.) 


AN  OLD  MAN  WHO  PLAYS  ON  THE  BAGPIPE.'     (Page  191.) 


To  face  page  194. 


CHRISTMAS  •  195 

in  full  view  of  the  altar  and  crowd  of  kneeling 
women. 

The  room's  walls  and  ceiling  were  black  with 
the  smoke  of  a  rudimentary  fireplace  in  one 
comer ;  in  another  corner  stood  the  usual  large 
Sicilian  bed  with  its  mattresses  rolled  up  at  the 
head,  and  from  one  wall  to  the  other,  across  the 
corner,  hung  the  baby's  cradle,  like  something 
between  a  suspended  berth  and  a  hammock. 
Against  the  wall  I  noticed  the  monumental 
dowry-chest  of  carved,  painted  wood  in  which  the 
bride  brings  her  worldly  possessions  when  she 
marries,  and  which  generally  contains  all  the 
family  clothes.  It  was  now  covered  with  small 
children,  who,  from  there,  enjoyed  a  good  view  of 
the  whole  performance,  and  were  out  of  the  way 
besides. 

The  chief  attraction,  the  altar,  towards  which 
all  eyes  were  adoringly  turned,  was  shaped  like  a 
pyramid,  and  bore  at  the  top  a  small  waxen  image 
of  the  Child  Jesus.  It  was  shrouded  in  a  white 
cloth  on  which  were  pinned  the  decorations,  con- 
sisting of  bits  of  coloured  paper  cut  into  patterns, 
images  of  saints  with  much  gilding  about  them, 
rosettes  and  bows  of  ribbons,  spangles,  and  artificial 
flowers  of  gaudy  -  coloured  tissue-paper.      About 

13—2 


196       SICILIAN  WAYS  AND  DAYS 

the    top,    surrounding    the   waxen   Child,   was   a 
garland  of  wild  asparagus  interlaced  with  orange- 
boughs  bearing  their  golden  fruit.     Bits  of  cotton- 
wool had  been  stuck  here  and  there  in  the  wild 
asparagus.      Many  lighted   tapers   completed   the 
humble  decoration  of  this  altar.     Close  to  it  the 
orchestra  was   grouped  —  a   cello,   two   violins,   a 
guitar,  and  a  tambourine.     The  kneeling  women 
huddled  in  front  of  the  altar  all  had  on  their  heads 
their  black  mantelline.    They  began  at  once  singing 
the  novena  stanzas  appointed  for  that   day ;   the 
tune  was  primitive  and  very  odd :  the  first  half  of 
the  stanza  was  quick  and  merry,  the  second  half 
became  a  wailing  dirge,  and  dropped  into  a  minor 
key.      These    contrasts    in    the   melody   and  the 
tambourine    accompaniment    were    very    quaint. 
The  voices  were  good,  if  shrill,  and  the  few  men 
present  sang  in  parts:  Sicilians  as  a  rule  have  a 
splendid  ear,  but  no  opportunity  for  cultivating  it. 
When  the  novena  stanzas  were  sung,  a  litany 
was  chanted,  all  the  children  joining  shrilly  in  the 
Ora  pro  nobis.     This  being  over,  after  a  moment's 
silence  an  old  woman  requested  an  Ave  Maria  and 
a  Paternoster  to  be  said  "for  the   material   and 
spiritual  welfare  of  everyone  present,"  and  these 
having    been  briskly  disposed   of,   the   same   old 


CHRISTMAS  197 

dame  requested  them  to  be  repeated  twice,  once 
on  behalf  of  the  souls  in  Purgatory,  and  next  on 
behalf  of  the  mistress  of  the  house  ;  and  with  a  last, 
spirited  flourish  on  cello,  violins  and  tambourine, 
the  novena  was  over  for  that  evening. 

I  naturally  became  anxious  to  know  the  words 
of  the  novena,  and  was  able  to  make  a  woman 
dictate  them  to  me  one  day.  I  was  all  the  more 
eager  to  have  these  words,  knowing  that,  as  a  rule, 
these  popular  songs  on  religious  subjects  have  been 
composed  in  Sicilian  dialect  by  illiterate  poets, 
generally  by  one  of  those  improvisers  who  abound 
amongst  Sicilians  of  the  lower  classes. 

This  was  confirmed  by  the  words  of  the  novena. 
An  educated  poet  would  have  introduced  touches 
of  Eastern  scenery,  and  divinized  the  persons 
mentioned  in  the  poem ;  a  Biblical  atmosphere 
would  have  pervaded  the  verses.  Here,  instead,  I 
found  that,  to  the  unknown  Sicilian  poet,  St.  Joseph, 
the  Virgin  Mary,  and  the  Child  Jesus  are  human 
beings,  as  familiar  to  him  as  the  old  men,  the 
women,  and  the  babies  he  sees  around  him ;  the 
impression  of  past  centuries  is  not  felt,  for  to  him 
they  live  to-day,  with  the  thoughts,  customs,  and 
speeches  of  the  people  of  to-day,  such  as  they 
think,  live,  and  speak  in  his  primitive  village ;  and, 


198       SICILIAN  WAYS  AND  DAYS 

indeed,  the  scenery  and  general  ways  of  Sicilians 
in  the  interior  of  the  island  are  so  Eastern  tha 
nothing  the  native  poet  says  in  the  novena  jars 
upon  the  reader  as  unlikely  or  out  of  place.  Even 
the  description  of  the  edict  at  the  beginning  falls 
in  naturally  here,  where,  whenever  a  new  tax  or 
ordnance  has  to  be  announced  to  the  villagers,  a 
man  goes  round  the  village  beating  a  large  drum 
to  call  attention,  and  at  all  street- corners  gives  out 
the  edict  in  a  loud  voice  for  all  to  hear.  A  touch- 
ing flavour  of  ingenuous  tenderness,  very  common 
in  Sicilian  peasants,  runs  through  all  the  poem. 

I  will  now  endeavour  to  give  the  words  of  the 
novena  in  English,  though  Sicilian  dialect  is  still 
more  difficult  to  translate  than  Italian,  for  there 
are  many  special  expressions  and  diminutives  which 
have  no  equivalent  in  any  other  language,  and 
sometimes  a  word,  containing  a  world  of  colouring, 
becomes  almost  meaningless  when  translated. 

FIRST  DAY. 
1. 

Whoever  loves  the  Virgin  Mary, 
Whoever  makes  much  of  St.  Joseph, 
Who  has  a  heart  in  his  breast. 
Come  and  hear  the  story 
Of  the  toilsome  journey 
Of  Mary  with  her  spouse. 


CHRISTMAS  199 

2. 
St.  Joseph  was  one  day 
On  the  square  of  Nazareth, 
Looking  after  his  business. 
When  he  heard  a  trumpet-sound, 
And  heard  an  edict  read 
Which  greatly  pained  his  heart. 

8. 

This  edict  gave  the  order 
That  every  man  of  every  age 
Was  to  go  and  be  inscribed 
In  his  own  native  city. 
He  was  also  to  pay  the  tribute 
Of  a  sum  of  money. 

4. 

At  this  most  unwelcome  news 
St.  Joseph,  much  disturbed, 
Went  at  once  to  Mary's  house. 
And  thus,  grieved,  spoke  to  her : 
"  Oh,  what  painful  news 
I  bring  to  you,  beloved  wife. 

5. 

"  What  an  edict  they  have  published  ! 
It  was  heard  now,  on  the  square. 
A  long  way  I  now  must  go 
In  order  to  pay  a  tribute. 
And  I,  afflicted,  must  obey. 
And  to  Bethlehem  must  go. 

6. 

"  I  must  go  to  Bethlehem, 

I  must  take  this  journey  ; 

But  whether  with  you  or  alone, 

I  shall  always  have  much  trouble. 

Whether  alone  or  with  you, 

I  shall  have  much  pain." 


200       SICILIAN  WAYS  AND  DAYS 

7. 

At  the  sad,  tender  words 
Of  her  much-beloved  spouse, 
With  very  loving  words 
She  affectionately  answered  : 
"  Do  not  grieve,  beloved  spouse ; 
Let  us  go  where  you  say. 

8. 

"If  the  Divine  Will 

Wishes  us  to  go, 

I  shall  come  where  you  will  take  me  ; 

It  matters  not  if  we  suffer. 

Let  us  go,  then,  both  of  us  : 

God  will  take  good  care  of  us. 

9. 
"  If  our  Emperor 
Commands  us  to  start. 
With  true  love,  and  promptly. 
We  must  both  obey  him. 
O  my  heart !  O  my  spouse  ! 
This  is  the  will  of  my  God." 


SECOND  DAY. 

1. 

At  this  tenderness  of  Mary 
St.  Joseph  was  o'erjoyed. 
He  answered  :  "  O  my  Lady, 
You  will  come  with  me  ; 
To  go  such  a  long  way 
I  shall  have  to  find  some  means. 
Allow  me  now  to  retire 
And  seek  some  providence." 


CHRISTMAS  201 

2. 
Joseph  then  goes  away. 
All  breathless,  in  a  hurry  ; 
And,  to  carry  the  Lady, 
Finds  a  good  little  ass. 
And  also  makes  preparation 
To  take  some  provisions. 

3. 
Thus  he  goes  back  to  his  spouse 
And  tells  her :  "  I  have  found, 

0  my  majestic  Lady, 
This  fortunate  little  ass  ; 
Being  unwell,  O  my  love. 

It  is  not  right  that  you  should  walk. 

4. 
"  In  these  saddle-bags  I've  placed 
A  few  fishes  and  four  loaves, 
To  restore  and  comfort  us 
In  those  distant  parts. 

1  wish  I  could  do  more. 

But  I  have  nothing,  O  my  spouse." 

5. 
Mary,  who  has  recognized 
The  Divine  desire. 
Makes  her  preparations 
For  her  impending  travail, 
And  fills  a  little  chest 
With  strips  and  swaddling-clothes. 

6. 
She  had  woven,  the  great  Lady, 
With  her  own  hands 
A  fine  white  piece  of  linen 
Of  strangely  delicate  texture. 
With  this  linen  she  had  made 
Little  clothes  for  the  Messiah. 


202       SICILIAN  WAYS  AND  DAYS 

7. 
Moreover,  St.  Joseph  had  earned 
Two  pieces  of  woollen  stuff, 
And  Mary  had  made  with  them 
Two  pretty  little  blankets, 
And,  provided  with  these  things, 
She  prepared  to  start. 


She  is  on  the  point  of  starting, 
The  great  Queen  of  Heaven, 
Offering  herself  to  suffering. 
Hunger,  cold  and  snow,  and  frost. 
One  now  marvels,  really, 
At  those  who  do  not  weep  for  pity. 

THIRD  DAY. 

1. 

Being  on  the  point  of  starting, 
The  great  Virgin  Mary 
To  her  spouse  began  to  say. 
Kneeling,  pious  and  humble : 
"  Do  me  this  great  favour — 
Bless  me,  O  my  spouse." 

2. 
St.  Joseph,  at  this  sign 
Of  matchless  humility. 
Much  struck  in  himself. 
Did  not  know  what  to  do. 
But,  forced  by  her  requests. 
With  humility  he  blessed  her. 

3. 
After  this  act  of  humility 
St.  Joseph  spoke,  and  said  : 


CHRISTMAS  203 

"  Cheer  up  now,  my  spouse  : 
I  am  with  you,  I  am  happy. 
Now  we  could  be  setting  on 
The  long  way  we  have  to  go. 


"  When  arrived  in  Bethlehem, 
All  our  anguish  will  be  over. 
For  certainly,  being  with  you. 
Everyone  will  receive  us. 
I  have  there  many  relations. 
Good  friends  and  acquaintances. 

5. 
"All  my  friends  and  my  relations, 
When  they  will  see  us  appear. 
All  smiling  and  merry 
Will  come  to  meet  us  ; 
They  will  treat  us  very  nicely. 
And  will  give  us  a  good  supper." 

6. 

But  the  wise  Virgin  Mary, 
With  a  troubled  sigh, 
Foresaw  many  woes. 
And  thus  spoke  to  her  spouse  : 
"  Ah  !  my  husband,  we  shall  do 
The  Divine  Will. 

7. 

"  Whatever  God  disposes 
Must  be  our  content, 
Without  minding  woes. 
Nor  searching  for  happiness  ; 
Let  us  put  our  confidence 
In  the  Divine  providence. 


204       SICILIAN  WAYS  AND  DAYS 

8. 
"  Whether  we  are  not  received, 
And  are  unknown  to  all, 
Or  we  are  respected. 
And  have  everyone's  goodwill, 
I  shall  always  say,  my  spouse, 
'  My  God,  I  do  thank  Thee.'  " 


FOURTH  DAY. 

1. 

Having  heard  her. 
The  fond  spouse  of  Mary 
Began  to  say  these  words 
(Being  filled  with  fervour) : 
"  It  is  late ;  why  do  we  tarry  ? 
My  dear  spouse,  let  us  start." 

2. 
The  Virgin  Mary,  to  obey, 
Mounted  on  her  donkey. 
Offering  her  heart  to  God, 
Giving  pleasure  to  her  God. 
St.  Joseph  went  on  foot. 
And  held  the  donkey's  bridle. 

3. 
Ten  thousand  seraphims 
Honoured  with  their  escort 
These  most  holy  pilgrims 
During  this  poor  journey, 
Cheering  on  the  way 
St.  Joseph  and  the  Virgin  Mary. 

4. 
They  were  strangers  everywhere. 
Despised  by  all  the  people. 


CHRISTMAS  205 

With  only  God's  goodwill. 
And  honoured  by  the  angels. 
They  do  not  mind  their  hardships 
Whilst  God  helps  and  loves  them. 

5. 

Modest  and  respectful 

The  great  Lady  travelled — 

How  beautiful  and  loving 

The  Virgin  pure,  and  mother  ! 

She  conquered  every  heart 

Of  those  who,  by  chance,  saw  her. 

6. 

Grave  in  her  demeanour. 
Her  candour  was  resplendent ; 
From  her  heart  shone  out 
The  great  love  of  Jesus, 
And  all  along  the  way 
She  thought  of  the  God-Child. 

7. 

What  tears  of  affection 
Dropped  from  her  sweet  eyes  ! 
What  flames  in  her  breast 
Lighted  up  as  she  thought, 
And  wept  as  she  discovered 
That  God,  her  Son,  was  suffering  ! 

8. 

On  their  way  they  met 
Several  sinners. 
And  the  look  she  gave  them 
Converted  those  sad  hearts. 
"  For  pity,  Mary,  look  on  me  ; 
Convert  me  :  I  am  wicked." 


206       SICILIAN  WAYS  AND  DAYS 

9. 
Every  sorrowful  one  she  saw 
She  compassionately  comforted  ; 
For  all  the  sick  she  found 
She  prayed  God,  full  of  love. 
"  I  am  poor,  O  Mary  : 
Have  pity  on  my  soul." 

FIFTH  DAY. 

1. 
They  went  on  their  journey, 
St.  Joseph  with  the  Virgin, 
Bearing  every  discomfort. 
Every  pain  and  obstacle. 
Oh  !  the  ungrateful  and  misled, 
Who  do  not  suffer  at  these  complaints  ! 

2. 
Five  days  on  the  road 
They  had  to  go  together, 
Always  on  the  move. 
Without  finding  any  shelter ; 
Tired  they  were,  and  famished. 
Spurned,  despised  by  all. 

3. 
Think  of  that  old  man. 
How  weary  he  must  be. 
Toiling  on,  poor  creature. 
Ever  on  foot,  on  the  road. 
He  took  care  of  his  spouse. 
And,  out  of  breath,  he  sighed. 


What  a  painful  journey 
Was  this  journey  of  Mary, 


CHRISTMAS  207 

In  the  rigorous  winter. 
In  the  cold  and  amongst  strangers, 
The  great  Lady  of  the  Heavens, 
Amongst  mountains,  ice,  and  frost ! 


Although  angels  helped  her, 
Respectfully  considered  her, 
The  storms  that  often  raged 
Tormented  her  enough. 
She  travelled  then,  all  modest, 
Feeling  cold,  and  shivering. 

6. 

Thus,  famished  and  weary. 
They  went  on  in  the  cold  ; 
They  never  had  a  shelter. 
Being  despised  by  all. 
People  saw  that  they  were  poor. 
And  did  not  consider  them. 

7. 

They  are  obliged  to  take  refuge 
In  the  stables,  in  the  corners  ; 
They  lodge  in  public  shelters. 
These  celestial  persons. 
Oh,  what  great  humility ! 
Who,  for  pity,  does  not  weep  } 

8. 

Who  can  keep  from  weeping. 

Remembering  that  Mary 

Is  obliged  to  take  shelter 

Together  with  the  cattle  ? 

How  shy  poor  Mary  feels 

To  find  herself  amongst  a  crowd  ! 


208       SICILIAN  WAYS  AND  DAYS 

9. 

However,  bearing  with  patience 

All  that  God  had  willed. 

All  the  pain  and  trouble 

Taking  cheerfully. 

They  bear  every  inconvenience 

During  all  the  journey. 

SIXTH  DAY. 


Very  tired  they  have  arrived 
After  such  a  long  way  ; 
They  have  entered  the  city 
Half  dead  with  the  journey  ; 
But  if  thou  lovest  them  at  all. 
Oh  !  gather  them  to  thy  heart. 


They  walk,  as  lost,  along  the  streets. 

Having  found  no  house  ; 

A  shelter,  for  charity, 

Is  denied  them  by  the  people  ; 

They  are  insulted  by  all. 

And  driven  away  despisingly. 

3. 

After  such  a  long  way. 

Having  found  no  shelter. 

They  go  to  enter  their  names,  and  pay 

The  tribute  to  the  King, 

Continuing  afterwards  to  seek 

Some  shelter  for  the  night. 

4. 

But  they  ever  ask  in  vain — 
None  will  listen  to  them ; 


CHRISTMAS  209 

And  St.  Joseph  in  his  heart 
Could  not  feel  at  peace, 
And  repeated,  weeping  : 
"  My  love,  what  must  I  do  ?" 


Whilst  he  wept  he  remembered 
That  there  was  a  shelter, 
Towards  which  he  went 
With  Mary,  his  loved  spouse. 
Arriving,  he  saw  with  grief 
That  in  the  inn  there  was  no  room. 

6. 

A  small  stable  was  there,  empty. 
And  St.  Joseph  is  content. 
There  he  settles  instantly. 
With  Mary,  weary,  languishing. 
In  the  dark,  tired  and  bitter. 
They  threw  themselves  to  rest. 


But  they  are  driven  away  at  once, 
Because  other  travellers  came  ; 
They  went  off,  sorrowful. 
Really  mortified. 
St.  Joseph,  weeping  much. 
Thus  spoke  these  words  : 

8. 

"  Then  they  do  deny  me 

Such  a  miserable  shelter. 

Oh  !  unfortunate  Joseph  ; 

Such  misfortune  was  never  heard  of  I 

O  my  spouse,  dear  Lady, 

Where  shall  we  go  for  the  night  ? 

14 


210       SICILIAN  WAYS  AND  DAYS 

9. 
"  It  is  four  hours  of  the  night, 
And  we  are  denied  a  roof  • 
I  have  done  all  I  could — 
My  spouse,  have  patience. 
No  one  will  have  us  ?     Then 
Let  us  go  out  again." 

SEVENTH  DAY. 

1. 
He  went  out  of  the  city, 
Remembering  that  he  knew 
Of  a  grotto  in  the  country ; 
So  thus  he  spoke  to  Mary  : 
''  Close  by  I  know  a  grotto, 
Only  it  is  rough  and  open. 


"  If  you  will  spend  the  night 
In  that  grotto,  I  will  take  you  ; 
I  cannot,  dear  spouse,  give  you 
Other  help  and  other  comfort." 
Mary  then,  obedient. 
Shows  her  good  contentment. 


Thus  together  they  went  off 
Towards  those  parts,  and  soon 
They  found  the  grotto. 
That  spot  is  very  miserable ; 
But  withal  they  are  of  good  cheer. 
Ever  thanking  God. 

4. 
All  the  blessed  angels 
Who  escorted  them  on  the  way. 


CHRISTMAS  211 

With  unusual  splendour 
Surrounded  then  the  grotto. 
St.  Joseph  could  perceive  them, 
And,  seeing  them,  was  happy. 

5. 

Oh,  think  of  the  joy 

Of  that  holy  couple. 

Who,  enjoying  that  splendour. 

Are  most  happy  and  glorious  ! 

After  so  much  toiling 

This  sight  cheers  them  up. 

6. 

In  that  glorious  light 
The  great  Lady  shone. 
Like  a  sun  of  majesty 
Which  inflames  and  fascinates. 
And  St.  Joseph,  all  consoled. 
Is  cheered  and  fascinated. 

7. 

Burning  thus  in  a  sweet  fire, 
St.  Joseph,  with  Mary, 
Understood  that  in  this  place 
Jesus  was  to  be  bom ; 
And  with  tears  of  affection. 
The  fire  increased  in  their  breasts. 

8. 

But  then  Mary,  seeing 
That  the  grotto  was  dirty — 
Like  a  holy,  pious  mother. 
She  could  not  stand  it  dirty — 
Having  found  a  broom  there. 
She  humbly  swept  it. 

14—2 


212       SICILIAN  WAYS  AND  DAYS 


9. 


At  sight  of  such  humility 
The  loved  spouse  of  Mary 
Began  also  to  sweep  ; 
But  the  angels  help  him. 
The  grotto,  in  the  meantime. 
Becomes  clean  and  beautiful. 


EIGHTH  DAY. 

1. 

After  thus  purifying 

The  grotto,  then  St.  Joseph, 

With  the  things  he  had  brought, 

Begins  to  make  a  fire. 

Then  says  he  :  "  Enjoy  it. 

Dear  spouse  ;  warm  yourself." 

2. 
They  both  sat  them  down 
On  the  ground  near  the  fire. 
Unable  to  wait  longer. 
They  forthwith  ate  some  food  ; 
And  with  great  devotion 
They  did  eat  their  supper. 

3. 
To  obey  her  husband, 
Holy  Mary  fed  herself; 
Some  other  better  food 
She  also  prepared. 
Thinking  continually 
Of  her  coming  travail. 


Having  finished  eating. 
They  gave  thank^  to  God ; 


CHRISTMAS  213 

And  with  sweetest  words 
They  conversed  together,   . 
Talking  to  each  other 
Of  the  love  of  the  God- Man. 

5. 

Oh,  think  of  the  tender 
Words  that  they  did  say  ! 
They  inflamed  their  hearts 
Ever  more  talking, 
Fervently  admiring 
The  great  love  of  Jesus. 

6. 

Then,  as  Mary  understood 
That  the  happy  hour  had  come 
When  God  was  to  be  bom, 
To  her  spouse  she  said  : 
"  It  is  late  ;  retire — 
Go  to  sleep  and  rest !" 

7. 

St  Joseph  also  prayed 
His  Lady  to  go  to  sleep. 
He  arranged  the  manger 
With  the  things  he  brought ; 
Then  he  went  into  a  comer 
Of  that  miserable  grotto. 

8. 

St.  Joseph  did  not  sleep. 
But  with  great  devotion 
Knelt  down,  pious  and  humble. 
Began  to  say  some  prayers. 
And,  as  in  an  ecstasy. 
He  saw  Jesus  born. 


214       SICILIAN  WAYS  AND  DAYS 

9. 
Neither  Mary  goes  to  sleep, 
But  being  called  by  God, 
Ready,  prompt,  and  pious. 
She  kneels  and  loves  and  worships  Him. 
Oh,  the  fortunate  couple  ! 
Pray  for  me,  forlorn  ! 


NINTH  DAY. 

1. 
During  her  orations. 
The  great  Virgin  Mary, 
With  much  devotion. 
Thought  of  her  Son  Jesus, 
And  she  thought  that  in  the  cold 
God's  little  Child  was  to  be  born. 

2. 
"  How  is  it  possible,'*  she  wept, 
"That  the  great  God  of  Majesty, 
The  tremendous  King  of  kings. 
Should  be  born  in  the  cold  ? 
How  can  the  Lord  of  heaven 
Be  bom  in  the  frost  ? 


"  O  my  God  of  riches. 

How  art  Thou  bom  so  poor  ? 

Can  it  be  true,  my  Beauty, 

That  I  see  Thee  shivering  ? 

That  Thou  tremblest  of  cold  and  diest  ^ 

No,  my  heart  is  failing  me. 

4. 
"  If  Thou  must  be  bom. 
Why  not  in  a  palace  ? 


CHRISTMAS  215 

Why  dost  Thou  not  come 
With  great  pomp  and  splendour  ? 
Thy  great,  mighty  love 
Makes  Thee  bom  so  lowly. 

5. 

"  When,  oh  !  when  wilt  Thou  be  born  ? 

When  will  that  hour  come  ? 

When  wilt  Thou  console 

Unhappy  humanity  ? 

When,  O  my  delightful  Love, 

Shall  I  press  Thee  on  my  breast  ?*' 

6. 

In  this  love  and  this  affection 
The  great,  blessed  Virgin, 
All  afire,  enraptured, 
Was  lifted  in  an  ecstasy. 
And  in  the  joy  of  her  God 
Little  Jesus  Christ  was  born. 

7. 

When  the  Messiah  was  bom, 

He  set  to  crying  and  lamenting. 

And  the  Virgin  Mary 

Shed  tears  once  more. 

She  took  Him  up  with  great  affection. 

And  pressed  Him  to  her  breast. 

8. 

St.  Joseph  then  awoke 
From  his  deep  ecstasy, 
And,  with  sweet  marvel. 
Felt  astonished,  puzzled. 
He  hurried  up,  frightened. 
And  saw  Jesus  was  born. 


216       SICILIAN  WAYS  AND  DAYS 

9- 
"  Oh,  what  fortune,  then,  is  mine  ! 
Oh,  what  honour  now  is  mine. 
To  adore  with  Mary 
My  God  in  this  place  ! 
Holy  Mary,  my  great  Lady, 
Receive  now  my  greetings  ! 

10. 

"  Oh,  what  Son  is  yours  ! 
What  a  lovely  creature  ! 
How  graceful  and  intact ! 
His  face  draws  out  love. 
How  amiable  is  His  brow ! 
He  is  like  His  mother. 

11. 

"  Oh,  what  lovely  eyes  ! 
And  that  rosy  little  tongue  ! 
You  are  really  lovely  ; 
Your  person  is  all  beautiful. 
Thou  art  beautiful,  my  Son — 
Still  more  so  that  Thou  art  God." 

I  cannot  resist  the  temptation  of  giving  the 
following  translation  of  a  very  touching  rocking- 
song  which  is  sung  by  the  women  from  Christmas 
night  to  the  Epiphany.  I  thought  it  might  suitably 
complete  the  Christmas  novena,  and  at  the  same 
time  give  a  fair  idea  of  the  ingenuous  religious 
spirit  of  the  women  here,  with  the  usual  flavour  of 
tenderness  and  resignation  to  suffering  so  charac- 
teristic of  Sicilian  women. 


CHRISTMAS  217 


ROCKING-SONG  FOR  THE  EPIPHANY. 

1. 
The  Virgin  Mary,  rocking 
Her  Son,  little  Jesus, 
Spoke  to  Him  thus,  singing  : 
"  Sleep,  my  Son,  and  hush-a-by  ! 
Lovely  rose  and  white  lily, 
Hush-a-by,  Jesus,  my  Sonny ! 

2. 
"  Jesus,  Son  !  O  Jesus,  Son  ! 
How  sweet  are  Thy  cheeks  ! 
How  loving  that  little  mouth  ! 
How  fair  those  curls  ! 
My  heart  for  Thee  goes  out. 
Hush-a-by,  Jesus,  hush-a-by ! 

S. 

"  Beautiful  Son,  my  little  Son  ! 
This  heart  with  flames  is  burning. 
Really,  Thou  must  be  cold ; 
Come,  hold  close  to  Thy  mother. 
And  get  warm  at  my  breast. 
Hush-a-by,  beloved  Son ! 

4. 

"  Everything  that  was  brought  here — 
The  presents  of  the  shepherds — 
I  would  give  them  all  to  Thee 
With  more  love  and  affection. 
Sleep,  then,  sleep,  O  Son ! 
Hush-a-by,  Son  Jesus  ! 

5. 
"  Thou  for  love  wast  made  flesh 
For  the  mad  sinners. 


218       SICILIAN  WAYS  AND  DAYS 

And,  withal,  ungrateful  men 
Do  not  weep  o'er  their  sins. 
They  enjoy  Hfe ;  my  Son  suffers.  .  .  . 
How  ungrateful !     Hush-a-by  ! 


"  But,  my  Son,  it  does  not  matter 
If  ungrateful  men  do  not  weep  ; 
Thy  little  mother  only 
Has  compassion  on  Thy  state. 
1  shall  weep  for  all  the  others. 
Hush-a-by,  dear,  hush-a-by ! 


"  All  Thy  dearest  friends 

Will,  my  Son,  forsake  Thee, 

And  Thou  shalt  be  sold 

By  a  villain  infamous. 

Eh,  my  Son,  what  wilt  Thou  do  ? 

Hush-a-by  !  don't  think  of  it. 

8. 

"  O  my  Son,  my  loving  Son  ! 
Sleep  now  without  anxiety ; 
Later  on,  beautiful  Son, 
All  pains  will  be  Thine, 
Since  Thou  wilt  suffer  so. 
Hush-a-by,  my  holy  Son  ! 

9. 
"  Lovely  Son,  beloved  Son, 
Thou  wilt  have,  for  too  much  love. 
In  the  house  of  Pilate 
Many,  many,  many  blows. 
I  will  have  Thee  in  my  heart. 
Hush-a-by,  beloved  Son ! 


CHRISTMAS  219 

10. 
"  O  my  Son,  my  loving  Son  ! 
Thou  art  most  unfortunate  ; 
For  Thy  glorious  head 
Will  feel  the  prick  of  thorns. 

0  most  painful  diadem  ! 
Hush-a-by,  my  piteous  Son  ! 

11. 
"  For  Thy  suffering  and  my  pain. 
Thy  sacred  hands  and  feet 

1  shall  see  on  the  hard  cross 
Pierced  by  three  nails. 

0  my  love,  what  wilt  Thou  do  ? 
Hush-a-by  !  don't  think  of  it. 

12. 
"  Lovely  Son  and  so  much  loved, 
Ah,  for  Thee  my  heart  is  pining ! 
To  put  an  end  to  my  weeping. 
Close  Thine  eyes  and  hush-a-by  ! 
No,  don't  cry,  my  Sonny ; 
Hush-a-by,  little  Son  Jesus  ! 

IS. 
"  Why  criest  Thou,  sweet  Son  ? 
Come,  say  it  to  Thy  mammy ; 
Make  me  hear  Thy  voice ; 
Let  that  small  mouth  speak. 
Why  shed  tears  ?  why  sobbest  Thou  ? 
Hush-a-by,  my  Sonny  Jesus  ! 

14. 

"  Rather,  let  me  weep. 
Who  in  grief  will  see  Thee — 
Thee,  my  Son — in  agony. 
And  will  see  Thee  die. 
But  to  think  of  it  I  grieve  ; 

1  die,  my  Son,  I  die ! 


220       SICILIAN  WAYS  AND  DAYS 

15. 

"  Come,  come  down,  angels  and  saints  ! 

Make  beautiful  symphonies  ; 

With  your  sweetest  singing 

Send  little  Jesus  sleeping. 

And  thou,  Sleep,  come,  oh,  come ! 

Hush-a-by,  my  Son,  my  treasure  ! 

16. 

"  Now  has  sleep  come  at  last. 

After  so  much  weeping. 

These  small  eyes  can  no  more  ; 

He  begins  to  dose. 

There,  my  Son  has  gone  to  sleep ; 

Hush-a-by,  loved  Jesus  ! 

17. 

"  Now  I  see  Thee  fast  asleep ; 
I  see  those  sweet  eyes  closed. 
In  this  way  shall  I  see  them — 
These  eyes — closed  on  the  cross. 
Sleep,  oh,  sleep  !  but,  as  for  me. 
My  eyes  are  drowned  in  tears." 


A  SUMMER  DAY  AT  MONTEDORO 

I  SLEEP  well  here,  much  better  than  in  town  ("  in 
town  "  here  means  Palermo).  The  dead  silence  per- 
vading all  things,  even  after  sunrise,  may  account 
for  this. 

I  generally  open  my  eyes,  not  too  early  in  the 
morning,  with  the  comfortable  feeling  of  having 
had  a  very  good  night. 

After  meditating  over  this  fact  in  a  somewhat 
drowsy  fashion,  I  seem  to  think  a  cup  of  coffee 
would  be  acceptable,  and  I  ring  the  bell. 

The  head-servant  here  (a  pompous  name  for  a 
very  inferior  person),  called  Caluzza,  and  blessed 
with  one  eye  only,  knows  by  now — or  should  know 
— that  I  am  the  only  member  of  the  household  who 
rings  the  bell  in  the  morning  ;  however,  her  natural 
thickness  of  mind  is  such  that  she  begins  by  going 
round  all  the  other  bedrooms,  saying  discreetly  be- 
hind each  door : 

**  Did  Vossia^  ring  ?" 

*  Vossia,  a  derivative  of  Voscenza,  Your  Excellence. 
221 


222       SICILIAN  WAYS  AND  DAYS 

She  generally  receives  no  answer  at  all,  or,  in 
some  cases,  gets  sent  about  her  business  rather 
peremptorily,  when  it  suddenly  flashes  across  her 
mind  that  /  may  have  rung. 

She  stalks  to  my  door — I  can  hear  her  step  from 
afar — and  pronounces  the  usual : 

"  Did  Vossia  ring  ?" 

"  Yes,"  I  answer  promptly  ;  "  bring  me  my  coffee 
quickly." 

As  I  am  acquainted  with  her  little  ways,  I 
know  now  that  she  will  first  put  the  coffee  on 
the  fire  to  warm  it,  then  she  will  begin  her  search 
through  the  house  for  a  cup  and  saucer  and  little 
spoon. 

Here  I  must  explain  one  of  the  eccentricities  of 
this  house.  It  possesses  any  amount  of  cups, 
saucers  and  little  spoons,  but  it  pleases  the  mistress 
of  the  house  to  keep  them  scattered  in  various  cup- 
boards placed  in  various  rooms,  when  it  would  be 
so  simple  and  handy  to  have  them  all  arranged  in 
the  dining-room.  Hence  Caluzza's  search  every 
morning,  which  causes  a  certain  delay  in  the  appear- 
ance of  my  cup  of  coffee. 

As  I  am  longing  for  it  by  now,  and  listening 
anxiously  to  catch  every  sound,  I  can  hear  her 
coming  into  the  dining-room  with  everything  except 


A  SUMMER  DAY  AT  MONTEDORO   223 

the  spoon  ;  she  has  a  hunt  for  it  there,  and  finds  it 
after  ransacking  several  drawers. 

Here  she  comes  at  last,  bearing  solemnly  a  little 
tray  with  a  cup  and  small  cofFee-pot. 

My  morning  coffee  has  not  always  been  brought 
to  me  in  such  correct  style.  And  here  comes  in 
another  eccentricity.  There  is  quite  a  collection  of 
trays,  large  and  small,  in  this  house,  but  it  pleases 
the  ruling  spirit  here  to  keep  them  locked  up  in  her 
green  boxes,  so  that  Caluzza  used  to  carry  my 
coffee-pot  in  one  hand,  balancing  the  cup  in  the 
other,  and  holding  under  her  arm  a  square  tin  box 
which  contained  the  sugar.  It  was  all  plane-sailing 
as  far  as  my  room,  but  in  front  of  my  door  she 
came  to  a  standstill,  let  the  tin  box  slide  slowly 
from  under  her  arm  down  to  a  table,  put  down  the 
cofFee-pot,  opened  wide  my  bedroom  door,  again 
put  the  box  under  her  arm,  took  up  the  cofFee- 
pot  once  more,  and  entered  triumphantly,  at  last ! 

I  thought  this  system  had  its  weak  points,  the 
strongest  of  which  was  that  more  than  once  male 
relatives,  inmates  of  this  house,  had  been  known  to 
cross  that  front  room  whilst  my  door  was  still  wide 
open  and  my  bed  in  full  view ;  so  1  introduced 
some  radical  changes  in  the  morning  coffee  cere- 
monial. 


224       SICILIAN  WAYS  AND  DAYS 

First  I  settled  a  small  sugar-basin  (which  looks 
like  a  pill-box)  near  my  bed ;  then,  by  dint  of 
intrigue,  I  possessed  myself  of  a  small  tray :  it  was 
fished  out  of  a  green  box  by  the  mistress  of  the 
house  in  a  moment  of  unguarded  weakness,  so 
that  now  Caluzza  sails  into  my  room  with  only 
one  hand  encumbered,  and  nothing  under  her 
arm. 

The  moment  she  appears  she  murmurs,  "  Vossia, 
benedica  "  (Your  Excellence,  bless  me),  to  which  1 
always  answer  in  plain,  good  Italian,  "  Good- 
morning  !" 

After  the  little  tray  is  safely  deposited  near  my 
bed,  I  say :  "  Now  bring  me  the  hot  water  for  my 
bath,  and  quickly." 

She  penetrates  into  the  back  room,  takes  up  a 
beautiful  two-handled  jar,  made  gay  with  green  and 
yellow  daubs  meant  for  flowers,  and  departs,  carry- 
ing the  jar  against  her  chest  as  if  it  were  a  baby, 
and  dangling  with  unconscious  grace  the  large  gold 
bangles  in  her  ears. 

I  sip  my  coffee,  which  is  good — Caluzza  knows 
how  to  make  it — listening  dreamily  to  the  silvery 
bells  of  the  herd  of  milk-white  goats  with  immense 
undulated  horns  who  assemble  every  morning  in 
the  yard  to  be  milked  for  the  benefit  of  such  mem- 


A  SUMMER  DAY  AT  MONTEDORO   225 

bers  of  the  household  who  favour  goat's  milk  instead 
of  the  usual  cup  of  black  coffee. 

By  the  time  I  have  finished  mine,  and  the  goats 
have  gone  away,  I  begin  to  think  Caluzza  is  very 
long  in  bringing  me  the  hot  water.  I  guess  that 
something,  as  usual,  is  the  matter,  and  ring  the  bell 
impatiently. 

Caluzza  loses  no  time  in  appearing,  and  this  time 
does  not  ask  whether  my  Excellence  rang. 

"  Well,  Caluzza,  and  where  is  the  water  ?" 

"  It  is  on  the  fire.  I  was  just  going  to  bring  it." 
(I  know  this  is  a  fib.) 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say  that  at  this  time  of  the 
morning  you  have  no  hot  water  ready  ?" 

"  Well,  Vossia  must  not  be  angry,  but  there  is  a 
wind  this  morning." 

"  Why  should  I  be  angry  about  the  wind  ?  It's 
welcome  enough  here  in  summer.  What  do  you 
mean  ?     Why  is  the  water  not  ready  ?" 

"  Well,  the  wind  has  prevented  my  lighting  my 
straw  fire  on  the  large  fireplace,  especially  as  the 
straw  was  damp  with  the  last  rain  which  fell  into 
the  straw-house,  so  I  gave  it  up ;  the  coffee  I  made 
on  the  small  charcoal-stove,  and  now  Santo  is  cut- 
ting up  wood  in  the  wood-yard  to  make  a  good 
fire." 

15 


226       SICILIAN  WAYS  AND  DAYS 

"  You  mean  a  good  fire  for  cooking  the  dinner,  I 
suppose  ?" 

"  No,  a  fire  for  warming  the  water  for  the  bath 
for  Vossia" 

1  look  at  her  to  see  whether  she  means  it  for  a 
joke  or  for  an  impertinence,  but  no :  her  plain,  stolid, 
one-eyed  countenance  expresses  nothing  but  blind 
stupidity,  so  I  say  shortly : 

"  Take  away  the  coffee-things  ;  I  shan't  have  my 
bath  this  morning." 

She  departs,  and  I  get  up  with  a  ruffled  temper. 
*  -jt  *  v  * 

I  have  explained  elsewhere*  that  the  back  room 
where  I  have  my  washing-stand  and  bath  is  also  a 
kind  of  passage-room  which  all  the  members  of  the 
family,  male  and  female,  are  supposed  to  use  at 
their  own  free  will,  and,  with  them,  any  stray  man 
from  the  village  who  happens  to  be  rambling 
through  the  house,  looking  for  this  or  that  member 
of  the  family. 

So  I  lock  the  two  doors  and  reign  supreme  in 
that  room  for  twenty  minutes,  whilst  people  at 
both  doors  keep  trying  to  open  them,  and  walk 
away  in  high  protest. 

By  the  time  I  am  dressed  I  feel  in  a   happier 
*  See  "  My  Room." 


SICILIAN  CHILD.    (Page  103.) 


A  VILLAGER.     (Page  226.) 


To  face  page  226. 


A  SUMMER  DAY  AT  MONTEDORO   227 

mood,  and  suddenly  remember  that  I  have  a  snaall 
batch  of  photos  to  fix,  and  that  this  morning  would 
be  peculiarly  suitable  for  fixing,  since,  with  the  wind 
there  is,  the  room  where  I  work  will  be  more 
draughty  than  usual,  the  water  will  be  cold,  the 
prints  will  dry  quickly,  and  everything  will  go  nicely. 

I  make  no  mention  of  breakfast  of  any  sort,  for 
here,  as  elsewhere  in  Sicily,  breakfast  is  an  unknown 
quantity,  the  only  thing  admitted  in  the  morning 
being  a  cup  of  black  coffee,  which  the  women  take 
in  their  bedrooms  or  in  the  kitchen,  and  the  men 
sip  standing  about  anywhere,  with  their  hats  on, 
before  going  off  to  their  various  occupations. 
*  *  *  *  * 

I  now  step  into  the  kitchen  and  say  to  Caluzza — 
she  has  a  roaring  fire  by  now :  "  Tell  Annidda  to 
bring  me  several  jars  of  water  up  into  the  fruit- 
room  as  usual." 

Annidda  (Caluzza's  mother)  is  a  little  old  dame 
with  a  wrinkled  face  always  beaming  with  smiles, 
and  one  hip  higher  than  the  other;  also  an  inde- 
scribable little  hump  somewhere  in  her  back.  She 
has  a  way  of  always  answering  "  Yes,  yes,"  at  what- 
ever is  said  to  her,  which  is  most  silly,  as  sometimes 
the  right  thing  would  be  to  say  "  No,  no,"  but  she 
does  it  thinking  it  pleases. 

15—2 


228       SICILIAN  WAYS  AND  DAYS 

She  makes  the  bread  every  morning,  feeds  the 
hens,  does  the  baser  kind  of  work  in  the  house,  and 
the  rest  of  the  time  runs  errands,  as  I  shall  explain 
later  on. 

Hearing  her  name,  she  looks  up  from  the  pigeons 
she  is  depriving  of  their  feathers  in  a  blind, 
groping  fashion,  and  is  ready  with  a  smile  and 
"  Yes,  yes !" 

But  Caluzza,  who  seems  determined  to  thwart  me 
in  every  way  this  morning,  steps  in  and  says : 

"  Vossia  must  not  be  angry,  but " 

"  Is  it  the  wind  again,"  I  interrupt  impatiently, 
"  or  the  fire  ?" 

"  No ;  it  is  the  water.  Vossia  sees,  Santo  is 
gone  to  the  Lavatore  to  fetch  the  almonds,  and 
there  is  not  a  drop  of  water  in  the  house." 

Santo  is  the  youth  who  cuts  up  the  wood  for  the 
kitchen-fires,  grooms  the  horses,  and  the  rest  of  the 
time  sits  on  the  donkey,  with  two  deep  panniers  on 
either  side,  each  pannier  containing  a  large  water-jar, 
and  rides  to  and  fro  between  the  house  and  the 
fountain,  thus  keeping  the  row  of  big  water-jars, 
which  stand  in  a  cool  back  closet  appointed  for  that 
use,  well  stocked  with  water. 

The  Lavatore,  which  takes  its  name  from  a  pool 
of  sulphurous  water  where  the  grandmothers  of  the 


A  SUMMER  DAY  AT  MONTEDORO   229 

place  go  to  wash  clothes,  is  a  place  where  we  have 
orchards  of  almond-trees,  and  very  beautiful  they 
are  in  spring-time,  covered  with  their  delicate  white 
blossoms.  It  is  also  very  nice  in  summer  to  see 
Santo  lead  into  the  village  the  donkey  laden  with 
large  bags  full  of  almonds,  but  all  this  does  not  give 
me  the  water  I  am  in  need  of. 

However,  as  I  am  not  easily  balked,  I  say  un- 
concernedly, affecting  not  to  know  I  shall  give 
Caluzza  a  shock :  "  Very  well ;  it  does  not  matter. 
Aimidda  will  go  round  all  the  washing-closets  in 
the  house,  and  will  bring  me  up  into  the  fruit-room 
all  the  water  she  finds  in  them  ;  surely,  no  one  has 
been  capable  of  using  it  all  this  morning." 

Annidda  departs  meekly  to  do  as  I  told  her, 
Caluzza  turns  to  her  cooking  with  a  stormy  face, 
and  I  ascend  majestically  to  the  fruit-room,  crossing, 
to  get  there,  the  most  unheard-of  back-kitchens 
and  back-stairs,  the  former  black  with  soot  and  as 
untidy  as  they  can  be,  the  latter  very  nearly 
crumbling  down,  each  stone  step  full  of  cracks.  It 
would  be  so  easy  to  whitewash  the  back-kitchens 
and  put  them  in  order ;  it  would  be  so  simple  to 
repair  the  stairs,  so  that  they  be  safe  at  least,  and 
take  away  the  cobwebs,  but  they  never  do  that  sort 
of  thing  here. 


230       SICILIAN  WAYS  AND  DAYS 

The  fruit-room,  however,  is  rather  interesting, 
and  positively  clean,  though  very  rough  and 
primitive  as  regards  the  floor,  the  eeihng,  the  walls  ; 
as  for  the  door  and  windows,  the  least  said  about 
them  the  better.  I  will  only  state  that  they  have 
the  failing  common  to  all  windows  and  doors  in 
this  astonishing  house :  the  windows  dislike  being 
opened,  and  the  door  has  firm  objections  to  being 
shut.  A  struggle,  therefore,  always  follows  my 
entrance  into  that  room,  as  the  first  thing  I 
generally  do  is  to  open  the  windows  and  shut 
the  door,  this  last  not  only  because  I  dislike 
draughts,  but  to  prevent  the  pigeons  who  have 
their  place  close  to  this  door  from  coming  into  the 
room,  where  I  once  caught  them  drinking  out 
of  the  fixing-bath  and  hopping  upon  my  damp 
prints. 

This  room  is  right  at  the  top  of  the  house.  It 
contains  many  large  wooden  trays  laid  on  trestles, 
where  fruit  from  our  orchards — pears,  oranges  and 
pomegranates — are  laid  out.  Strings  are  stretched 
across  the  room  at  a  certain  height,  for  hanging 
grapes  on. 

On  the  other  side  is  a  row  of  square  wooden 
boxes  with  lids,  where  our  supplies  of  flour  are 
kept.     Every  morning  Annidda  dives  into  them 


FEEDING  THE  HENS.'     (Page -JS.) 


HERD  OF  MILK-WHITE  GOATS.     (Page  224.) 


To  face  page 


A  SUMMER  DAY  AT  MONTEDORO   231 

with  a  wooden  measure,  to  take  the  right  quantity 
of  flour  for  making  our  bread. 

It  may  strike  the  reader  that  a  room  where  fruit 
and  flour  are  kept  is  not  exactly  suitable  for  an 
amateur  photographer  to  prepare  fixing  and  toning 
baths,  and  fix  and  dry  prints.  There  is  some- 
thing in  that,  but  the  room  is  large,  lofty  and  airy ; 
it  has  a  fine  view  from  the  window  which  towers 
high  over  all  the  village  and  its  cluster  of  low, 
grey  houses  ;  then,  close  to  it  is  my  own  little  dark- 
room, where  I  keep  all  my  bottles. 

Then,  again,  this  room  being  isolated  at  the  top 
of  the  house,  I  run  no  risk  of  being  interrupted  or 
bothered  during  my  work.  The  flour-boxes  have 
nearly  the  height  of  a  table,  and  are  very  con- 
venient for  doing  my  fixing,  toning  and  washing 
operations. 

What  if  sometimes  drops  of  the  fixing  Uquids 
leak  into  the  box  and  soak  the  flour  ? 

Also,  what  if,  when  I  shake  a  print  out  of  the 
fixing-bath,  some  drops  travel  as  far  as  the  grapes 
hanging  above,  or  to  the  pears  on  the  trestles  ?  I 
am  quite  happy  up  here,  and  undisturbed,  which 
is  the  principal  thing. 

Now  that  I  have  introduced  the  fruit-room,  I 
will  add  that,  when  Annidda  hobbled  in  with  jars 


232       SICILIAN  WAYS  AND  DAYS 

of  water  collected  from  all  the  closets  in  the  house, 
I  set  to  work,  and  worked  undisturbed  all  the 
morning ;  I  then  left  my  prints  to  dry  on  a  long 
deal  board,  resting  at  one  end  on  a  pear-tray,  and 
at  the  other  on  a  basket  of  pomegranates,  and 
descended  into  the  lower  regions. 

Upon  reaching  the  dining-room,  I  found  it  was 
nearly  twelve  o'clock,  and  the  table,  to  my  horror, 
was  not  set.  I  immediately  travelled  back  to  the 
kitchen  to  interview  Caluzza  about  it. 

"  Caluzza,  why  has  Arcangela  not  set  the  table  ?" 

Arcangela  is,  in  a  way,  my  special  servant,  for  in 
winter  I  take  her  to  Palermo,  where  she  cooks  for 
us.  When  I  have  her  there  to  myself,  safe  away 
from  the  lowering  influence  of  the  Montedoro 
entourage,  I  drill  her  into  something  like  order,  and, 
indeed,  I  have  got  her  to  do  things  almost  properly, 
and  with  an  appearance  of  method ;  but  alas !  the 
moment  she  gets  back  here,  amidst  her  congenial 
fellow-servants,  she  falls  sadly  back  into  their 
plaguy  ways. 

However,  as  she  is  certainly  cleaner  and  more 
wide-awake  than  the  others,  she  sets  the  table, 
waits  at  dinner,  and  irons  our  clothes,  which  the 
laundress — Caluzza's  sister — washes  according  to  a 
special  system  of  her  own. 


A  SUMMER  DAY  AT  MONTEDORO   233 

Caluzza  begins  to  mumble  at  me  through  her 
teeth  that  Arcangela  had  to  go  and  mind  the  fields 
for  Nardo,  her  son-in-law,  who  is  ill  with  malaria, 
and  that  she  will  stay  out  there  all  day,  and,  may- 
be, all  to-morrow. 

This  Nardo  is  a  kind  of  rural  guardian  of  the 
fruits  and  vegetables  in  several  fields  far  away  from 
the  village.  He  is  paid  by  the  owners  of  these 
fields  to  look  after  them  night  and  day,  to  prevent 
robberies.  He  has  his  dog  and  gun  with  him,  and 
very  rarely  appears  in  the  village.  When  Nardo 
happens  to  be  ill,  Arcangela,  his  precious  mother-in- 
law,  goes  and  minds  the  fields  for  him ;  she  has  a 
pointed  knife  in  her  pocket,  and  is  afraid  of  nothing. 
I  admire  her  devotion  to  her  son-in-law,  and  hold 
out  her  conduct  as  an  example  to  all  mothers-in- 
law,  present  and  future  ;  but  what  I  don't  admire  is 
her  knack  of  escaping  from  the  house  and  her 
work  without  so  much  as  asking  my  leave.  After 
all  the  pains  I  have  taken  with  her,  it  is  too 
aggravating.  .  .  . 

Of  course,  nothing  remains  for  me  but  to  set  the 

'  table  myself,  which   is   rather   a   business,  as   we 

always  sit  down  to  dinner  eight  or  ten  in  number. 

But  before  leaving   Caluzza,  my  experience,  also 

something  in   her  face,  prompt  me  to  diffidence. 


234       SICILIAN  WAYS  AND  DAYS 

and  I  ask  whether  dinner  is  ready  ;  for  I  must  here 
explain  that,  although  we  are  supposed  to  dine  at 
twelve,  we  never  sit  down  before  one,  because 
there  is  always  something  missing,  or  something 
forgotten,  or  something  gone  wrong,  or  unexpected 
people  turning  up  at  the  last  moment,  and  some 
extra  cookery  to  be  concocted.  But,  like  my  sleep, 
my  appetite  here  is  rather  exaggerated,  and  when 
twelve  o'clock  strikes,  I  fall  to  tormenting  Caluzza 
until  she  sets  the  dinner  on  the  table. 

So  I  ask  whether  dinner  is  ready. 

She  answers  :  "  Yes,  but  the  wine,  maccheroni  and 
something  else  have  still  to  be  bought,  and 
Annidda  is  gone  for  the  wine." 

It  is  their  custom  here  to  have  a  special  servant 
for  running  errands — going  to  buy  things  for  the 
house,  and  starting  on  the  principle  that  she  must 
buy  one  thing  at  a  time.  So,  when  Annidda  has 
made  the  bread,  she  sallies  forth  to  buy,  say, 
potatoes.  As  baskets  are  unheard  of,  she  brings 
them  home  in  a  napkin  hidden  under  her  black 
cloth  mantellina,  and  walks  leisurely—  she  knows 
she'll  be  at  it  all  day. 

She  gives  the  potatoes  into  Caluzza's  keeping, 
and  departs  a  second  time,  to  buy  two  bottles 
of  wine.     She  brings  them  home,  and  goes  out 


SANTO  GROOMS  THE  HORSES."    (Page  228.) 


DONKEY,  WITH  PANNIERS  ON  EITHER  SIDE.    (Page  228.) 


I 


To  face  page  2Si. 


A  SUMMER  DAY  AT  MONTEDORO   235 

again,  to  buy  maccheroni,  with  which  a  SiciHan 
dinner  invariably  begins,  except  when  there  is 
soup. 

Then  she  trips  out  once  more  for  the  meat — 
when  there  is  any  to  be  got — or  for  eggs,  then 
again  to  get  carbur  for  our  acetylene  lamps  ;  and  so 
on  until  evening. 

I  have  tried  to  point  out  to  the  mistress  of  the 
house  how  much  easier  it  would  be  for  all  con- 
cerned if  Annidda  were  to  be  given  a  nice  big 
basket  for  her  shopping,  and  make  two,  or  at  the 
most  three,  journeys  through  the  village  instead 
of  twenty,  which  would  leave  her  plenty  of  time 
for  doing  a  little  cleaning  in  the  house. 

However  forcible  my  argument  may  have  been, 
the  mistress  of  the  house  has  been  firm  about 
keeping  up  the  old  arrangements,  for  the  very  good 
reason  that  this  is  the  way  the  house  shopping  has 
always  been  done  here ;  so  I  gave  it  up,  especially 
when  she  said,  as  a  final  and  decisive  argu- 
ment :  "  Annidda  would  be  ashamed  of  carrying 
a  basket ;  but  even  were  it  not  so,  how  could 
she  keep  her  mantellina  on  if  she  had  to  carry  a 
basket  ?" 

But  to  go  back  to  our  dinner. 

"Do  you  mean,"   I   say  to  Caluzza — "do  you 


236       SICILIAN  WAYS  AND  DAYS 

mean  that  you  sent  Annidda  for  the  wine  first,  and 
that  she  will  next  have  to  go  for  the  maccheroni, 
which  was  needed  first  ?  Is  not  your  water  for  it 
boiling?" 

"Yes." 

"  Well,  then,  if  you  had  sent  her  for  the  maccheroni 
first,  you  might  have  dropped  it  into  the  boiling 
water  the  moment  she  brought  it,  and  then  she 
could  have  gone  for  the  wine  whilst  we  ate  the 
maccheroni''' 

Caluzza  does  not  see  the  point  of  this,  and  calmly 
goes  on  stirring  the  beautiful  tomato  sauce  which 
will  season  our  maccheroni — the  maccheroni  which 
has  still  to  be  bought  and  cooked,  and  twelve  o'clock 
struck  long  ago ! 

I  return  sadly  into  the  dining-room  and  begin  to 
set  the  table,  with,  of  course,  the  usual  hunt  after 
most  of  the  things,  which  are  scattered  all  over  the 
house. 

In  one  of  my  pilgrimages  to  the  kitchen  I  catch 
Annidda  just  delivering  into  Caluzza's  keeping  two 
bottles  of  wine,  and  I  pack  her  oiF  to  the  maccheroni 
shop,  taking  no  notice  of  her  "  Yes,  yes  !" 

When  I  have  done  setting  the  table,  I  give  a 
finishing  look  at  my  work,  and  smile  inwardly  at 
the  thought  of  how  horrified  the  whole  household 


1  :  >J  2  \* 


*  .1    i 

*  ,5*^ 


"A  GRANDMOTHER  OF  THE  PLACP:.'    (Page  220.) 


A  POOL  OF  SULPHUROUS  WATER."    (Page  22S.) 


To  face  page  230. 


A  SUMMER  DAY  AT  MONTEDORO   237 

would  be  if  I  were  to  put  a  bunch  of  flowers  on 
the  table ! 

The  things  upon  it  are  a  strange  medley,  offering 
strong  contrasts.  There  are  silver  forks  and  spoons, 
but  the  tumblers  are  of  the  commonest  glass,  and 
clumsily  shaped.  The  plates  are  china,  with  the 
willow-pattern,  but  the  dishes,  of  various  hetero- 
geneous shapes  and  designs,  are  of  very  inferior 
quality,  and  were  evidently  bought  here  after  the 
willow-pattern  dishes  were  all  broken. 

Indeed,  I  remember  that  amongst  the  basins 
and  dishes  I  use  in  the  developing-room  there 
is  a  good  willow-pattern  pie-dish,  and  feel  now 
that  the  mistress  of  the  house  will  never  for- 
give me  for  appropriating  it.  I  think  she  lent  it 
me  the  first  time  not  understanding  what  I  was 
going  to  do  with  it ;  afterwards,  hearing  that  I  had 
put  poisonous  stuff  in  it,  I  imagine  she  got 
frightened  at  having  it  back,  and  left  me  in 
undisputed  possession  of  it.  What  if  she  knew 
that  I  soak  the  flour  and  sprinkle  the  fruit  with  the 
fixing  liquids  ? 

When  I  first  came  here,  I  found  they  had  a 
strange  mode  of  setting  the  table. 

It  was  the  fashion  to  arrange  in  its  centre,  in 
higgledy-piggledy  fashion,  a  heap  of  plates,  a  moun- 


238       SICILIAN  WAYS  AND  DAYS 

tain  of  knives  and  forks,  a  cluster  of  glasses,  and 
other  items. 

Then,  as  the  family  sat  noisily  down  to  dinner, 
each  person  grasped  a  plate,  appropriated  a  glass, 
fished  in  the  heap  for  a  knife  and  fork,  and  began 
eating  away,  after  murmuring  vaguely  and  collec- 
tively :  "  Good  appetite !" 

I  stood  it  once  only.  Next  day  I  did  what  I 
never  do  here  except  when  necessity  demands  it : 
I  asserted  myself,  and  said  Arcangela  would  set  the 
table  just  as  I  had  taught  her  to  do  at  Palermo. 

Some  members  of  the  family  approved  of  this 
wonderful  innovation,  but  some  were  made  grumpy 
and  uncomfortable  by  it ;  they  did  not  seem  to  enjoy 
their  dinner  half  as  well  as  when  they  had  the 
centre-piece  heap  to  fish  from. 

Now  they  have  got  used  to  it,  but  I  have 
noticed  one  thing :  a  few  of  the  most  conservative 
ones,  on  sitting  down,  begin  by  pushing  away  to 
the  right  their  knives  and  spoons,  away  to  the  left 
their  forks,  away  in  front  of  them  their  glasses, 
ending  up  with  a  little  push  to  their  plates.  After 
thus  destroying  the  beautiful  symmetry  which  I 
have  taken  such  pains  to  teach  to  Arcangela,  they 
^ve  a  little  sigh  of  satisfaction  and  begin  eating, 
certainly  more  happily  than  if  they  had  suffered 


A  SUMMER  DAY  AT  MONTEDORO   239 

their  covers  to  remain  as  they  found  them.  By  the 
time  a  few  of  them  have  thus  behaved  outrageously 
the  table  is  a  sad  spectacle  ! 

When  I  had  set  the  table  satisfactorily  I  went 
back  into  the  kitchen  to  see  what  progress  the 
maccheroni  was  making,  as  I  expected  to  find  it 
half  cooked  by  that  time. 

When  Caluzza  saw  me,  she  looked  guilty  and 
said  :  "  Annidda  has  not  turned  up  with  it  yet." 

"  But  why  is  she  such  a  time  ?"  I  remonstrated. 
"  It  is  only  a  few  steps  to  the  man  who  makes  it." 

"Yes,"  explained  Caluzza  kindly,  "but  it  may 
be  she  is  waiting  whilst  they  are  making  it.  ..." 

Thus,  to  my  disgust,  I  hear  that  the  maccheroni 
is  not  only  uncooked  and  unbought,  but  possibly 
not  made ! 

Before  I  have  had  the  time  to  explode,  however, 
Annidda's  little  wrinkled  face,  encircled  in  the 
black  mantellina,  appears  at  the  door,  and  seeing 
me,  she  promptly  smiles  and  produces  the  long 
parcel  of  maccheroni,  saying  quite  needlessly,  "  Yes, 
yesl" 

"  Now,  Caluzza,"  I  say  sternly,  "  I  shall  stand 
here  until  I've  seen  you  drop  it  into  the  boiUng 
water." 

I  have  to  do  this  because  I  know  it  to  be  her 


240       SICILIAN  WAYS  AND  DAYS 

invariable  habit  not  to  put  the  maccheroni  to  boil 
until  she  has  been  told  to  do  it  at  least  six  times. 
She  feels  as  if  it  were  too  solemn  an  act  to  be  gone 
through  hurriedly  or  thoughtlessly,  or  perhaps  she 
nourishes  some  hope  that  an  earthquake  or  a 
thunderbolt  may  prevent  her  accomplishing  it, 
or  that  at  the  last  moment  she  will  be  told  not 
to  do  it — who  knows  ? 

This  is  the  reason  why,  when  I  want  my  dinner 
very  badly,  I  stand  in  the  kitchen  until  I've  seen 
her  do  as  she  is  told. 

Now,  of  course,  she  sighs,  sits  down  with  the 
bundle  on  her  knees,  and  slowly  unties  the  knots  of 
the  table-napkin,  which  contains  a  huge  parcel  of 
long,  saffron-coloured  sticks  of  maccheroni,  still 
damp  from  the  press ;  she  looks  at  them  lovingly, 
and  breaks  the  whole  parcel  in  two.  She  pretends 
now  that  she  must  look  into  the  pot  to  see  if  the 
water  is  boiling,  which  is  real  nonsense,  as  it  is 
bubbling  away  most  fiercely. 

I  stand  patiently  by  and  watch  her  anxiously; 
after  peering  into  the  pot  with  her  one  eye,  and 
getting  her  face  well  scalded  with  the  steam,  she 
throws  a  handful  of  salt  into  it,  takes  up  the 
maccheroni,  and  at  last  drops  it  into  the  boiling 
water,  stirring  it  a  little. 


A  SUMMER  DAY  AT  MONTEDORO   241 

By-and-by,  everyone  having  straggled  in  or  been 
shouted  for,  we  all  sit  down ;  but  the  Mayor  is 
missing — perhaps  he  is  still  busy  at  the  town-hall, 
so  Annidda  is  despatched  to  fetch  him. 

He  soon  arrives,  breathless  and  full  of  news,  and 
sits  down  with  his  hat  on,  immediately  beginning 
to  push  off  the  things  about  his  plate,  quite 
mechanically,  as  if  he  did  not  even  know  what  he 
was  doing. 

Dinner  is  welcome  to  me  because  I  am  blessed 
with  a  good  appetite  here ;  but,  were  it  not  so,  I 
might  give  more  attention  to  its  many  weak  points — 
not  as  regards  the  cooking :  I  am  easily  pleased  in 
that  respect — but  rather  as  regards  the  way  it  is 
served  and  the  manner  of  eating  in  full  vogue  here. 

Things  are  eaten  all  together,  or  one  at  a  time — 
not  according  to  a  definite  standard,  but  rather 
according  to  Caluzza's  own  sweet  will  or  con- 
venience. 

The  maids  are  very  willing  to  bring  in  the  dishes, 
but  they  seem  to  object  to  taking  them  away.  I 
have  to  sustain  quite  a  struggle  in  order  to  get  them 
to  clear  away  the  meat,  vegetables,  etc.,  before  they 
put  the  dessert  on  the  table. 

It  sets  my  teeth  on  edge  to  see  a  plate  of  grapes 
near  an  almost  empty  dish  of  potatoes,  or  some 

16 


242       SICILIAN  WAYS  AND  DAYS 

forgotten  cutlets  close  to  a  pyramid  of  figs,  and  I 
cannot  enjoy  a  slice  of  melon  when  the  remains  of 
roast  pigeons  are  still  in  front  of  me  ;  but  the  other 
members  of  the  family  do  not  seem  to  mind  it,  and 
rather  enjoy  keeping  near  their  dessert-plate  the 
other  plate  from  which  they  have  eaten  their  meat 
and  vegetables,  so  I  struggle  alone,  and  generally 
come  off  victorious,  if  exhausted. 

The  conversation  is  lively,  but  easily  gets  noisy, 
the  men  alone  taking  part  in  it.  /  first  introduced 
in  this  house  the  novelty  of  a  woman  conversing 
with  the  men  on  their  own  subjects,  and  I  must 
say  they  have  enjoyed  the  change.  Still,  I  stand 
alone  in  that  respect :  no  other  woman  here  would 
follow  my  example.  Some  of  them  even  think  me 
brazen-faced,  for  their  custom  is  to  eat  in  silence 
and  attend  to  the  wants  of  the  men,  getting  up 
continually  to  wait  upon  them,  even  with  half  a 
dozen  maids  in  the  kitchen. 

It  would  not  be  inappropriate  to  say  something 
about  the  extraordinary  way  in  which  places  are 
arranged  here  at  dinner ;  it  struck  me  as  original 
when  I  first  came.  To  begin  with,  the  post  of 
honour  for  a  woman  is  not  at  the  right-hand  side 
of  the  master  of  the  house,  nor  is  the  best  place  for 
a  man,  guest  or  not,  supposed  to  be  at  the  right- 


•.  :;•.;:'./       v; 


^%i^--^^ 


A  FRIENDLY  ENGINEER  COMES  OVER  FOR  THE  DAY. 
(Page  243.) 


p 

xr^ 

r£v^^       ,^t0klk  -                                              TT^^ 

If 

1 

[pUft 

^^■ii 

^    ,-*ffpu— '- 

CLUSTER  OF  LOW,  GREY  HOUSES."    (Page  231.) 


To  ace  page  241 


A  SUMMER  DAY  AT  MONTEDORO   243 

hand  side  of  the  mistress  of  the  house.  All  this 
would  give  rise  to  scandal.  The  established  custom 
is  for  an  honoured  guest  to  sit  at  the  head  of  the 
table,  I  was  put  there  once,  at  a  dinner-party  in 
Serradifalco,  and  very  out-of-place  I  felt  indeed. 

Then,  again,  we  do  not  go  in  for  audaciously 
placing  side  by  side  and  alternately  a  man  and  a 
woman,  as  is  done  at  all  the  dinner-tables  out  of 
Sicily ;  the  correct  thing,  after  you  have  settled  the 
most  important  person  (regardless  of  sex)  at  the 
head  of  the  table,  is  to  file  off  all  the  men  on  one 
side,  and  all  the  women  and  children  higgledy- 
piggledy  on  the  other,  taking  care  to  unite — or 
divide — the  two  sexes  at  the  end  by  some  elderly 
relative — also  regardless  of  sex,  as  long  as  the 
relative  is  elderly. 

I  have  tried  hard  to  persuade  the  mistress  of  the 
house  how  very  nice  it  would  be  if  she  would  sit  at 
the  head  of  the  table ;  and  whenever  a  friendly 
engineer  or  family  lawyer  comes  over  here  for  the 
day  and  dines  with  us,  I  point  out  to  her  how 
modern  and  fashionable  we  should  be  if  she,  sitting 
at  the  head  of  the  table,  would  let  the  stranger  take 
his  place  at  her  right  hand.     But  all  in  vain  I 

And,  again,  on  the  rare  occasions  when  I  have 
been    inveigled    into    dining    anywhere,    I    have 

16—2 


244       SICILIAN  WAYS  AND  DAYS 

struggled  hard  to  be  allowed  not  to  sit  at  the  head 
of  the  table  out  of  my  own  house !  But  also  in 
vain! 

*  *  *  *  ^ 

When  dinner  is  over,  from  May  to  September  it 
is  the  custom  for  all  to  retire  to  their  own  rooms, 
go  to  bed,  and  sleep  away  the  hot  drowsy  afternoon 
in  the  silence  of  the  quiet  village  as  it  basks  in  the 
fierce  sunshine. 

But  before  doing  like  the  rest,  however,  I  re- 
member I  meant  to  go  for  a  ride  in  the  late  after- 
noon, and  must  arrange  now  about  my  escort,  since 
it  is  not  "  the  thing  "  to  ride  without  a  few  armed 
men,  as,  although  the  classical  brigand  has  ceased  to 
exist,  still  our  solitary  provinces  are  often  infested 
by  starved,  unscrupulous  tramps,  and  oftener  by 
latitanti* 

Two  men  generally  come  with  me.  One  I  have 
here  on  the  premises,  but  I  have  to  give  a  short 
notice  to  Alessandro,  who  lives  in  the  village. 

Of  course,  since  Arcangela  has  given  me  the 
slip,  I  must  send  Annidda,  and,  going  into  the 
kitchen,  I  find  her  eating  her  dinner  out  of  a  platt 

*  Men  who,  after  committing  a  crime,  have  run  away  from 
justice  and  hve  hidden  in  the  country.  The  modern  brigand 
generally  begins  by  being  a  latitante. 


A  SUMMER  DAY  AT  MONTEDORO   245 

upon  her  knees.  The  others  seem  to  be  enjoying 
maccheroni  and  vegetables  mixed  up  together,  but, 
as  far  as  I  can  tell,  her  plate  contains  green  olives 
and  little  crusts  of  bread  swimming  in  a  bath 
of  oil. 

"  Annidda,  do  you  know  if  Alessandro  is  in  the 
village  to-day  ?" 

"  Yes,  yes  ;  I  saw  his  wife  this  morning." 

"  You  know  I  don't  mean  his  wife.  I  mean  him. 
When  you  have  finished  your  olives,  go  to  his 
house,  and  if  he  is  in,  tell  him  I  should  like  him  to 
ride  with  me  to-day  at  four  o'clock." 

On  hearing  the  words  four  o'clock  she  looks 
despairingly  at  the  others,  and  asks  what  Jour 
o'clock  means. 

Here  follows  a  discussion  between  Caluzza,  the 
laundress,  and  Santo  as  to  whether  hy  four  o'clock 
I  mean  the  Benediction  hour  or  twenty-two  o'clock. 
To  help  them  out  of  the  difficulty,  I  tell  Xh^mfour 
o'clock  is  just  after  the  post  comes  in.  This  settles 
the  matter,  and  they  hurry  off  Annidda,  telling  her 
to  explain  to  Alessandro  that  I  shall  want  him 
after  twenty-one  o'clock,  but  not  a  minute  later 
than  the  Benediction.  She  hobbles  off,  forgetting, 
in  her  bewilderment,  to  say  "  Yes,  yes  I" 

As   I    return   to   the   sitting-room,   I   find   two 


246       SICILIAN  WAYS  AND  DAYS 

members  of  the  family  having  a  game  of  cards 
before  going  off  to  their  slumbers,  and  I  sit  down 
and  watch  them,  so  as  to  give  Annidda  the 
time  to  deliver  my  message  and  bring  me  the 
answer. 

To  improve  the  shining  hour,  I  interview  the 
two  card-players  about  the  confusing  way  they 
have  in  reckoning  time  here,  and  am  told  that  the 
old  custom  of  going  by  the  sun  and  the  various 
daily  services  in  the  church  still  prevails,  and  is 
lovingly  clung  to,  in  spite  of  the  big  clock  which 
adorns  the  church-tower,  and  which  is  still  an 
impenetrable  mystery  to  the  people,  the  women 
especially. 

They  count  twenty-four  hours  to  the  day, 
including  the  night,  beginning  at  sunset.  The 
Ave  Ma?ia  is  rung  at  that  hour,  which  is  by  all 
simply  called  the  Ave  Maria  hour.  An  hour  later, 
confirmed  by  another  cheerful  peal  of  bells,  is  called 
one  hour  of  the  night ;  two  hours  later,  two  hours  of 
the  night,  etc.  On  Thursday  evenings  the  church- 
bells  ring  also  for  two  hours  of  the  night  to  record, 
so  I  am  told,  the  visit  of  Jesus  with  His  disciples  to 
the  Garden  of  Gethsemane. 

In  winter,  the  sun  setting  much  earlier,  the  Ave 
Maria  is  rung  at  five  o'clock,  or  half  an  hour  earlier 


>  a     1       • « 


lliE  LAUNDRESS."    (PageiMJ.) 


WOMEN  GOING  TO  THE  BENEDICTION  SERVICE.    (Page  247.) 


To  face  page  246. 


A  SUMMER  DAY  AT  MONTEDORO   247 

or   later,    and   this    goes  on  all   the   year   round, 
according  to  the  season. 

Then,  at  sunrise,  they  begin  the  day  with  a 
short,  early  service  called  the  Salve  Regina,  giving 
this  name  to  the  peal  of  bells  rung  at  that  hour. 

The  hours  are  reckoned  progressively,  since  they 
began  the  evening  before,  and  at  twenty  o'clock — 
that  is,  four  hours  before  sunset — the  Benediction 
is  rung.  I  find  it  a  most  convenient  peal,  as  it  tells 
you  exactly  at  what  part  of  the  day,  from  an 
astronomical  point  of  view,  you  have  arrived,  and 
you  know  then,  without  looking  at  the  clock,  that 
you  can  still  count  on  four  hours  of  daylight. 
The  Benediction  service,  falling  at  that  convenient 
hour,  is  very  much  favoured  by  women  and  little 
girls. 

But  to  go  back  to  my  ride.  I  soon  hear 
Annidda's  irregular  step  on  the  stairs,  and  go  into 
the  entrance-room  to  meet  her.  Her  brown 
wrinkles  are  lighted  up  by  such  a  smile  that  my 
heart  fails  me,  as  I  know  by  experience  that  she 
never  smiles  like  that  except  when  she  is  the 
bearer  of  bad  news. 

"  Well,  Annidda  ?" 

'*  Yes,  yes  !     Alessandro  went  off  this  morning 
his  wife  told  me,  as  she  was  boiling  a  hen  for  one 


248       SICILIAN  WAYS  AND  DAYS 

of  her  children,  who  has  been  kicked  in  the  head 
by  their  horse." 

"  Tell  me  about  Alessandro,"  I  interrupt. 

"  He  went  off  before  the  Salve  Regina  hour  to 
shoot  rabbits  and  partridges  because " 

"  I  don't  want  to  know  why.  What  a  time  you 
make  me  lose !  Now,  go  at  once  to  Ludovico,  and 
ask  him,  and  not  his  wife,  if  he  can  ride  with  me 
to-day  at  the  Benediction  hour,  and  not  a  minute 
later  "  (I  am  quite  clear  this  time). 

She  trots  away,  bringing  well  round  her  face  the 
black  cloth  mantellina  to  shield  herself  from  the 
hot  sun,  and  I  go  back  to  the  game  of  cards. 

At  last  she  brings  me  word  that  Ludovico  was 
in,  and  called  upon  the  Bedda  Matri*  to  witness 
that  he  would  certainly  appear  before  the  Benedic- 
tion with  his  horse  and  rifle,  and  I  go  to  bed 
satisfied. 

It  is  so  hot,  and  I  went  to  bed  so  late  the  even- 
ing before,  that  I  soon  fall  asleep,  the  room — and, 
indeed,  all  the  rooms  in  the  house — being  darkened 
and  hushed,  no  one  stirring  or  doing  any  work, 
not  even  the  maids,  who,  leaving  their  unwashed 
plates  to  the  flies,  are  dosing  away  on  chairs  (which 
must  be  so  uncomfortable) ;  and  Santo,  giving  a 

*  "Beautiful  Mother"  (Madonna). 


A  SUMMER  DAY  AT  MONTEDORO   249 

rest  to  the  donkey  and  water-jars,  is  lying  full 
length  in  the  shade  on  a  stone  bench  in  front  of 
the  stables. 

My  nap  is  not  very  long,  however,  for  I  can 
never  sleep  much  when  I  expect  a  ride,  as  I  look 
forward  to  it  with  a  pleasant  anticipation  which 
spoils  my  sleep. 

^fr  W?  *RF  ^nF  ^F 

At  half-past  three  I  am  up  and  dressed,  and 
begin  to  wait  impatiently  for  two  things  —  the 
arrival  of  the  daily  post  and  my  ride. 

Post  comes  in  once  a  day  here.  It  travels  by 
rail  as  far  as  Serradifalco  Station.  There  it  is  met 
by  the  Montedoro  carriage,  which  brings  it  up  here, 
together  with  any  stranded  traveller  who  has  been 
deluded  into  coming  to  Montedoro.  This  carriage 
is  supposed  to  arrive  at  3.30,  but  it  never  bumps  in 
before  four,  which  is  just  the  hour  when  we  begin 
to  think  our  siesta  has  lasted  long  enough.  It  is, 
therefore,  something  pleasant  to  look  forward  to 
and  to  speculate  upon  during  the  half-hour  and 
more  employed  by  the  postmaster  to  open  the  bag 
and  sort  and  stamp  the  letters. 

They  are  never  impatient  about  anything  here, 
not  even  to  get  their  letters  and  papers.  I  am  the 
only  one  who  shows  any  real  hurry  about  receiving 


250       SICILIAN  WAYS  AND  DAYS 

them  whilst  I  watch  an  undergrown  young  man 
with  a  bronze  complexion  walk  leisurely  round  the 
place  and  leave  their  letters  with  various  individuals, 
who  begin  by  being  surprised  at  receiving  them, 
beg  him  to  read  them  out  aloud,  and  have  a  little 
talk  with  him  about  them  afterwards. 

I  walked  up  and  down  in  front  of  the  house, 
dividing  my  attention  between  the  slow  progress 
this  letter-carrier  and  letter-reader  made  towards 
me  and  the  fact  that  both  the  Benediction  and  four 
o'clock  had  rung,  but  still  no  escort  men  were 
visible,  nor  had  Santo  saddled  the  horses  yet, 
though  before  going  to  sleep  I  had  told  him  to  do 
it  in  good  Italian,  and  reinforced  my  order  by 
begging  someone,  who,  for  a  wonder,  could  speak 
both  languages,  to  tell  him  in  good  Sicilian. 

The  letter-carrier's  arrival  somewhat  took  away 
my  thoughts  from  Santo's  want  of  punctuality, 
but  after  I  had  glanced  through  the  paper  to  see 
what  the  rest  of  the  world  was  doing,  and  skimmed 
over  two  letters,  I  finally  grasped  the  fact  that  no 
preparation  was  being  made  for  my  ride,  especially 
when  I  peeped  into  the  stables  and  found  nothing 
was  going  on  there,  except  that  the  horses  turned 
round  and  neighed  at  me,  for  they  know  me  well. 

Suddenly  an  inner  door  opened,  and  Turiddu, 


A  SUMMER  DAY  AT  MONTEDORO   251 

one  of  my  escort  men,  emerged  from  some  back- 
yard, where  he  had  been  sleeping  probably.  I 
pounced  upon  him,  and  asked  him  why  Santo  was 
not  saddling  the  horses,  why  he  was  not  ready 
himself,  why  Ludovico  had  not  come  ? 

His  answer  was  that  Ludovico  would  probably 
come  at  five  if  he  had  been  ordered  to  come  at 
four,  but  that  he  would  go  and  call  him ;  also,  he 
would  saddle  the  horses  himself,  as  he  expected 
Santo  was  at  home,  seeing  the  Bambino  brought  to 
his  little  brother's  bedside. 

I  pricked  up  my  ears  at  this,  and  made  up  my 
mind  to  find  out  all  about  this  Bambino  ;  but,  to 
gain  time,  I  told  him  to  call  Ludovico  first,  and 
then  come  back  to  saddle  the  horses,  adding  that  1 
would  stand  in  front  of  the  stable-door  until  he 
chose  to  come  back.  He  agreed,  flew  a  parting 
bado  la  mano  at  me,  and  went  off,  whilst  I  sat  on 
the  stone  bench  in  front  of  the  stables,  and  watched 
the  Sindaco  granting  interviews  to  some  villagers, 
and  administering  justice  in  a  fatherly,  familiar, 
and  most  public  fashion. 

Turiddu  soon  reappeared.  Ludovico,  it  seems, 
had  just  gone  off  to  look  after  some  sulphur  in  one 
of  our  mines,  and  had  left  orders  at  home  that  one 
of  his  children  should  run  and  fetch  him  the  moment 


252       SICILIAN  WAYS  AND  DAYS 

I  sent  for  him,  and  this  after  caUing  upon  the 
Bedda  Matri  (Madonna)  to  witness  his  readiness 
to  be  with  me  at  four  o'clock  !  It  was  a  quarter  to 
five  now,  so  I  hurried  Turiddu  into  the  stables, 
and  whilst  he  composedly  hunted  out  my  saddle, 
and  set  it  on  the  glossy  back  of  the  young  but 
gentle  bay  mare  I  ride,  I  said  to  him:  "Now, 
quickly,  explain  about  Santo  and  the  Bambino.'' 

The  men  here  are  accustomed  now  to  my  asking 
for  information  about  all  those  facts  that  to  them 
appear  absurdly  homely  and  obvious,  so  he  began 
to  explain  that  there  was  in  Montedoro  a  miracu- 
lous Bambino  representing  the  Child  Jesus,  a  large, 
flaxen-haired  doll  dressed  gorgeously  in  gold-em- 
broidered robes,  made  still  more  showy  with  the 
bright-coloured  ribbons  and  gaudy  artificial  flowers 
they  are  so  fond  of  here.  This  Bambino  conferred 
great  honour,  as  well  as  wealth  and  happiness,  to 
the  family  who  invited  it  to  stay  under  their  roof 
for  a  month. 

The  only  return  the  family  gave  for  this  visit 
from  the  Bambino  was  to  dress  from  head  to  feet 
some  poor  orphan  or  destitute  child  in  the  village. 
Most  famihes  in  the  place  were  anxious  for  this 
monthly  visit,  so  it  came  to  pass  that  this  Bambino 
was  always  out  visiting,  with  short  intervals  of  rest 


'THE  YOUNG  BUT  GENTLE  liAY  MARE."    (Page  JJJ.) 


SANTO'S  HOUSE.    (Page  253.) 


To  face  page  252. 


A  SUMMER  DAY  AT  MONTEDORO   253 

in  the  parish  priest's  house.  It  seems  that  during 
one  of  these  rests  the  Bambino  had  been  suddenly 
summoned  to  Santo's  home,  where  a  small  brother 
of  his  lay  ill,  and  the  family  had  deemed  a  visit 
from  the  Bambino  desirable.  Now,  as  the  Bambino 
was  to  be  brought  in  great  state  to  Santo's  house, 
which  had  been  subjected  for  the  occasion  to  a  kind 
of  violent  spring-cleaning,  it  was  not  to  be  expected 
Santo  would  stay  away  from  his  home  at  such  a 
time,  not  even  to  saddle  horses  or  bring  water  to 
the  house,  or  any  such  trivial  matter. 

**  It's  all  very  well,  and  also  very  nice,"  I  said, 
"  though  it's  foolish  of  them  to  believe  the  Bambino 
will  do  any  good.  The  doctor  would  be  more 
useful  in  this  case.  But  why  did  not  Santo  tell 
me  of  this  ?  If  I  had  known  beforehand,  I  should 
have  arranged  for  someone  else  to  saddle  the  horses. 
If  I  had  not  come  in  here  to  see,  I  might  still  be 
sitting  in  the  house,  awaiting  everybody,  and 
nobody  turning  up." 

"  Perhaps  he  was  ashamed,"  says  Turiddu,  show- 
ing two  rows  of  dazzling  teeth  in  a  broad  and 
benevolent  smile. 

This  is  their  great,  unanswerable  argument  here. 
Whenever  someone,  especially  a  young  person, 
wilfully  disobeys  an  order,  or  is,  by  some  unex- 


254       SICILIAN  WAYS  AND  DAYS 

pected  occurrence,  prevented  from  obeying  it,  the 
only  reason  or  justification  they  give  is  that  they 
were  "ashamed." 

I  was  confusedly  brooding  over  Santo's  "  shame  " 
as  the  cause  of  his  not  giving  me  notice  he  would 
be  unable  to  saddle  the  horses,  when  Ludovico 
appeared  with  a  friendly  smile  on  his  countenance, 
as  if  he  did  not  realize  the  fact  that  he  was  an  hour 
late.  He  was  leading  his  horse,  and  was  provided 
with  a  rifle  and  an  imposing  belt  full  of  cartridges, 
and  two  dangerous-looking  dogs  walked  at  his 
heels,  both  named  after  famous  warriors  in  Ariosto 's 
"  Orlando." 

"  N'ow  let  us  go,"  I  said,  foreseeing  the  usual 
contretemps  which  invariably  delay  me  just  when 
I  am  in  a  frenzy  to  mount  and  be  off. 

The  men  agreed  leisurely.  One  of  them  helped 
me  to  mount;  they  both  mounted,  and  rode  one 
on  each  side  of  me,  carrying  their  rifles  across  their 
saddles,  and  looking  very  like  the  brigands  from 
whom  their  presence  was  supposed  to  protect  me. 
«  #  «  *  « 

As  soon  as  we  had  left  the  village  behind  us, 
and  1  felt  as  if  life  was  indeed  worth  living,  even 
at  Montedoro,  we  trotted  across  a  field,  and  upon 
reaching    the    highway   they   asked   me   where   I 


A  SUMMER  DAY  AT  MONTEDORO   255 

would  like  to  go.  I  answered  I  would  like  to 
go  to  Torretta,  if  tliey  approved ;  for  I  have  found 
out  that,  in  spite  of  their  respectful  ways  and 
expressions,  they  always  end  by  having  their  own 
way  rather  than  letting  me  have  my  own,  and  I 
have  also  found  out  that  the  best  policy  is,  up  to  a 
certain  limit,  to  let  them  guide  me  and  order  me 
about.  They  do  it  so  politely,  too,  that  one  cannot 
resent  it. 

Our  road  to  Torretta  wound  along  the  crest  of  a 
hilly  ridge,  from  where,  to  right  and  left,  we 
enjoyed  the  usual  wide  landscape  of  hills  and 
valleys,  golden  with  ^  ripe  corn,  very  rarely  broken 
by  clusters  of  fig  or  olive  trees,  and  in  the  distant 
horizon  ranges  of  lofty  mountains,  as  blue  as  the 
sky  overhead. 

The  warm  air  played  about  my  face  as  I  rode, 
and,  feeling  pleasantly  forgetful  of  all  the  cares  of 
life,  I  asked  my  companions  to  tell  me  about  the 
Baron  of  Torretta,  to  whose  country-house  we 
were  bound,  as  I  knew  there  were  dark  stories 
afloat  about  him. 

In  breathless,  excited  whispers  they  gave  me  the 
following  details  about  him:  He  was  now  well 
over  forty ;  in  his  youth  he  had  been  the  wildest 
and  least  respectable  of  noblemen.     He   and   his 


256       SICILIAN  WAYS  AND  DAYS 

cousin,  both  bachelors,  Uved  alone  in  that  solitary 
country-house  at  Torretta,  surrounded  by  acres  of 
corn-land — a  feudo,  as  they  say — all  belonging  to 
them.  Close  to  the  house  rose  a  rocky  hill  swarm- 
ing with  rabbits.  The  Baron  enjoyed  shooting 
them   now   and   then   with   his   friends   from   the 

neighbouring  town  of  M .     It  was  not  shut  in 

by  walls  or  hedges,  but  lay  open  to  all,  and  the 
Baron  did  not  allow^  shooting  on  his  grounds.  It 
was  well  known,  however,  that  rash  persons, 
anxious  to  have  a  little  sport,  had  infringed  the 
order,  and,  being  caught  in  the  act,  had  been  shot 
by  the  Baron's  campieri,  and  buried  under  a  cluster 
of  cypresses  which  rose  close  to  the  house.  Then 
again,  the  men  implied  darkly  that  the  Baron  had 
in  those  times,  out  of  pure  perversity,  made  friends 
and  associated  with  brigands,  who  then  infested 
the  country,  helping  them  with  his  protection  and 
money,  and  giving  them,  in  hard  times,  a  shelter  in 
his  own  house,  where  the  local  police  would  not 
have  dared  to  come  after  them. 

All  this  seemed  to  me  delightfully  medieval,  but 
became  positively  thrilling  when  I  was  told — as  I 
had  vaguely  heard  already — that  this  estimable 
Baron  had  been  arrested  and  called  to  account 
for    the    disappearance    of    the    various    amateur 


»  '>  .]'  . 


MY  ESCORT."    (Page  254.) 


THE  CREST  OF  X  HILLY  RIDGE"    (Page  255.) 


To  face  page  256. 


A  SUMMER  DAY  AT  MONTEDORO   257 

rabbit-shooters  who  lay  buried  under  the  cluster 
of  cypresses  near  his  house.  He  had  spent  more 
than  a  year  in  prison,  and  at  the  Assizes  had  been 
acquitted  because  no  proof  could  be  brought 
against  him,  and  now,  slightly  cowed  by  this  last 
experience,  he  was  known  to  live  more  quietly, 
but  he  still  kept  fierce  keepers  on  the  premises. 

"  I    suppose  no   one  in  M associates  with 

him  now  ?"  I  asked. 

The  men  laughed  inwardly — as  they  have  a  way 
of  doing — at  my  innocence,  and  declared  that  he 
was  now  Pretore  (Magistrate)  of  the  town,  and  at 
the  next  election  would  be  elected  Sindaco  (Mayor) 
without  the  shadow  of  a  doubt. 

All  this  excited  my  curiosity  immensely,  espe- 
cially as  we  were  now  in  sight  of  the  house,  which 
gave  me  the  impression  of  a  cemetery,  as  it  was 
completely  closed  in  and  surrounded  by  high,  white 
walls,  and  the  dismal  cluster  of  cypresses  rose  dark 
and  gloomy  at  one  corner,  just  where  the  land 
sloped  up  to  the  bare,  rocky  hill  which,  it  is  well 
known,  swarms  with  rabbits.  Not  another  house 
was  in  sight  to  break  the  lonely  solitude  around 
that  white  building,  which  stood  on  a  hilly  crest, 
with  bare,  dried- up  land  stretching  in  front  of  it 
down    to    the  valley   below,   far    away,   where  a 

17 


258       SICILIAN  WAYS  AND  DAYS 

ribbon  of  water  was  just  visible   in  the  waning 
sunlight. 

After  going  round  those  impenetrable  walls,  we 
suddenly  came  to  a  wide  doorway,  from  where  we 
saw  a  large  yard,  on  which  gave  the  three  sides  of 
the  house.  A  few  sullen-looking  men  in  top-boots, 
with  red  handkerchiefs  twisted  about  their  heads, 
stood  near  the  gate  and  watched  us  silently  as  we 
rode  up  and  stopped  before  them ;  indeed,  two  of 
them,  who  had  their  backs  turned  towards  us,  did 
not  even  look  round  when  Turiddu  spoke  out  and 
said  :  "  Rispettamu*  is  the  Signor  Baron  here  ?" 

Of  course,  the  best  policy  for  the  Baron's  re- 
tainers was  to  find  out  who  we  were  and  what  our 
business  was  before  answering  whether  he  was  at 
home  or  not,  though  they  were  rather  staggered — 
but  did  not  show  it — at  my  apparition.  So  one  of 
them  mumbled  some  words  purposely  in  such  a 
low  voice  that  my  men,  quick  as  they  are,  did  not 
catch  them  ;  but  Turiddu,  who  understood  all  about 
it,  pretended  to  have  heard,  and  gave  as  an  answer: 
"  Yes,  we  come  from  Montedoro,  and  this  lady 
is "  And  here  followed  a  flourishing  descrip- 
tion of  my  family,  with  the  male  members  of 
which  the  Baron,  I  knew,  was  well  acquainted. 
*  We  respect  you. 


A  SUMMER  DAY  AT  MONTEDORO   259 

The  name  acted  as  magic.  One  of  the  men  in 
top-boots  disappeared  in  a  groping,  mysterious 
fashion  through  a  dark,  arched  passage  across  the 
yard,  whilst  the  others,  in  sign  of  dawning  hospi- 
tality, drove  away  two  mastiffs  who  were  trying  to 
murder  Ludovico's  dogs,  in  spite  of  their  formid- 
able names. 

We  all  sat  on  our  horses,  just  outside  the  gate- 
way, and  waited. 

Presently  some  people  emerged  from  the  dark 
passage ;  it  was  the  Baron  himself,  with  more 
retainers. 

He  was  a  tall,  square-shouldered  man,  with  a 
short,  grizzly  beard,  black  eagle  eyes,  with  a  now 
piercing,  now  sleepy  look  in  them,  and  a  chocolate- 
hued  complexion.  I  was  disappointed  in  him.  I 
had  expected  to  see  a  bloodthirsty  villain,  and  I 
found  instead  the  usual  type  of  the  Sicilian  country 
gentleman. 

He  hurled  stormy  reproaches  at  his  people  for 
not  having  invited  me  and  my  men  to  dismount — 
reproaches  which  they  took  with  silent  indifference, 
for  they  knew  they  were  only  meant  for  my  ears — 
and  declared  himself  immensely  honoured  by  my 
visit,  wishing  he  had  known  of  it  beforehand,  to 
make  suitable  preparation. 

17—2 


260       SICILIAN  WAYS  AND  DAYS 

I  said  I  had  heard  so  much  of  the  beautiful  view 
one  enjoyed  from  the  summit  of  his  shooting- 
grounds  that  I  had  come  all  the  way  from  Monte- 
doro  to  see  it. 

He  immediately  proposed  walking  there,  and 
ordered  our  horses  to  be  taken  into  the  stables 
in  the  meantime. 

He  then  took  me  along  a  narrow,  stony  path  up 
the  hill,  which  was  covered  with  rocks  and  prickly 
shrubs.  A  few  of  his  men  followed  in  silence  with 
my  men,  who,  out  of  politeness,  had  left  their  rifles 
at  the  house. 

When  we  reached  the  breezy  top,  I  found  that 
the  view,  which  extended  as  far  as  Girgenti  and 
the  sea,  was  truly  magnificent,  with  the  hush  of 
the  waning  summer  day  resting  on  hill  and  valley. 
Peace  and  silence  reigned  far  and  near,  and  I 
forgot  in  that  moment  the  dark  stories  I  had  heard 
about  the  master  of  the  place  as  he  stood  by  and 
courteously  pointed  out  to  me  this  mountain  and 
that  village.  Going  back  to  the  house,  however, 
I  caught  sight  of  the  cluster  of  cypresses,  and 
remembered.  .  .  . 

When  we  came  to  the  gateway,  I  wished  to  say 
good-bye,  and  go,  but  he  would  not  hear  of  it.  I 
was  to  come  in  and  have  a  glass  of  the  sweet  wine 


A  SUMMER  DAY  AT  MONTEDORO   261 

they  make  in  Lipari  Island — "  real  wine  for  a  lady," 
he  said,  with  one  of  his  rare  smiles. 

I  had  to  give  in  and  follow  him,  not  being  sorry 
to  contemplate  the  bear  in  his  den,  but  I  was  very 
glad  to  see  my  two  faithful  followers  come  in  with 
me  and  stand  near  the  open  door  of  the  lofty  but 
bare  and  comfortless  room  where  I  sat  down  with 
the  Baron,  whilst  a  man  in  muddy  top-boots,  and 
with  his  long  cotton  cap  sticking  out  of  his  pocket, 
brought  a  tray  with  glasses,  and  poured  out  the 
sweet  wine  from  Lipari  Island,  which,  said  the 
Baron,  was  like  bottled  sugar  and  sunshine.  He 
insisted  upon  my  men  tasting  it  too,  which  they 
did  with  immense  gravity.  Then  I  had  a  bit  of 
conversation  with  the  Baron,  all  the  men  huddling 
together  near  the  door,  and  drinking  in  every  word 
I  said. 

The  Baron  harped  upon  the  fact  that  I,  being  a 
foreigner,  must  be  astonished  at  many  things  in 
Sicily — he  was  right  there — and  that  there  must 
be  many  more  which  I  probably  did  not  under- 
stand. This  was  quite  true,  as  I  told  him,  and  I 
further  explained  that  I  enjoyed  going  about  and 
finding  out  all  the  strange  things  for  myself. 

He  certainly  approved  of  this,  and  added  that, 
now  I  had  found  him  out,  he  hoped  I  would  come 


262       SICILIAN  WAYS  AND  DAYS 

again,  and  bring  the  men  of  my  family  to  have  a 
shot  at  the  rabbits.  He  was  so  very  easy-mannered 
and  unconscious-looking  that  anyone  would  have 
thought  he  believed  me  to  be  ignorant  of  his  life 
and  reputation,  whilst,  as  a  fact,  he  knew  I  had 
been  told  all  about  him,  and  guessed  I  had  ridden 
all  that  way  out  of  pure  curiosity  to  have  a  look 
at  him — which  was  the  plain  truth. 

I  finally  rose  to  go,  and  through  a  suite  of  bare, 
whitewashed  rooms,  with  nothing  but  mouldy 
chairs  and  consoles  in  them,  and  old,  gilt-framed 
mirrors  dimmed  with  age,  we  suddenly  emerged  into 
the  courtyard,  where  our  horses  stood  ready  for  us. 

One  of  the  Baron's  campieri  had  brought  a  chair, 
thinking  I  would  need  it  to  mount  my  horse,  but 
when  the  Baron  saw  me  mount  it  with  the  help  of 
Ludovico's  hand  only,  he  sighed,  and  remarked 
what  a  pity  Sicilian  women  were  not  more  like 
English  ones.  I  took  this  as  a  nice  compliment, 
and  expressed,  as  courteously  as  I  could,  my  thanks 
for  his  hospitality.  He  answered,  expatiating  upon 
the  great  hojnour  I  had  done  him,  and  bowed  low. 

As  we  rode  out  of  the  gateway  the  last  rays 
of  the  setting  sun  glimmered  through  the  tall 
cypresses,  which  rose,  gloomy  and  mysterious, 
against  the  clear  sky,  and  the  thought  of  the  deeds 


THE  DISMAL  CLUSTER  OF  CYPRESSES."    (Page  257.) 


MONTEDORO,  WHICH  LOOKED  WHITE  AND  PEACEFUL."    (Page  263.) 


To  face  page  262. 


A  SUMMER  DAY  AT  MONTEDORO   263 

of  horror  which  had  happened  on  that  very 
spot  not  many  years  ago  made  me  ride  away 
shuddering. 

Instinctively  I  turned  round,  and  there  was  the 
Baron,  standing  bareheaded  in  front  of  his  dilapi- 
dated gateway.  I  felt  that  he  watched  us  with  his 
eagle  eye  until  we  had  turned  the  corner,  when, 
indeed,  I  breathed  more  freely,  but  remained 
wrapped  in  thought  until  we  reached  Montedoro, 
which  looked  white  and  peaceful  in  the  soft  summer 
twilight. 

«  «  «  «  « 

As  we  rode  into  the  village  square  I  noticed 
a  small  crowd  of  reapers,  and  went  nearer  to  see 
what  was  going  on  there,  and  came  upon  a  lovely 
scene. 

The  reapers — easily  distinguishable  by  their  red 
handkerchiefs  about  their  heads — and  some  villagers 
pressed  round  two  men,  who,  from  a  distance, 
seemed  to  be  engaged  in  a  lively  discussion.  One 
of  them  was  a  native  of  Montedoro — a  poor  devil, 
weak  and  sickly  in  appearance,  who  follows  the 
humble  calling  of  a  road-sweeper  ;  the  other  was  a 
reaper  from  another  province.  His  coat  and  short 
sickle  were  thrown  upon  his  shoulder ;  he  was  as 
dark  as  an  Arab,  with  splendid  features  ;  a  tuft  of 


264       SICILIAN  WAYS  AND  DAYS 

black  curls  fell  below  his  red  handkerchief  and  lay 
across  his  broad  forehead. 

The  two  men,  I  at  once  understood,  were  impro- 
vising a  dialogue,  in  metrical  rhymes,  in  Sicilian. 
The  subject  was  religious — the  mercy  of  God,  the 
love  of  Jesus,  the  greatness  of  St.  Joseph  and  St. 
Calogero,  the  miracles  of  faith,  resignation  to 
suffering  and  poverty.  All  this  was  expressed  in 
five  stanzas  of  six  rhymed  verses  each,  without 
hesitation,  without  a  defective  verse,  and  it  was  only 
when  one  of  the  two  improvised  poets  stopped  to 
take  breath  that  the  other  took  up  his  cue  and 
started  afresh,  unfalteringly,  with  a  play  of  expres- 
sion and  gesture  which  would  have  done  credit  to 
the  best  actor. 

The  crowd  of  men  and  children  listened  atten- 
tively, as  if  entranced.  To  say  the  truth,  I  did  the 
same  ;  and  opposite,  the  parish  priest  of  Montedoro, 
leaning  upon  his  balcony  with  a  monk,  listened,  he 
also  attentive  and  delighted,  thus  completing  the 
picturesque  and  medieval  scene,  which  took  place 
in  the  centre  of  the  wide  piazza,  surrounded  by 
low,  white  houses,  in  the  waning  light  of  the 
summer  evening. 

*  *  *  ♦  * 

This  arcadian   scene   dispelled   the  gloomy  im- 


A  SUMMER  DAY  AT  MONTEDORO   265 

pressions  I  had  received  from  my  visit  to  the 
Baron  of  Torretta,  and  I  dismounted,  feeling  on 
the  whole  rather  satisfied  with  my  ride,  and  sat 
down  in  front  of  our  casino  with  a  few  male 
relatives  whom  I  found  there,  some  reading  the 
papers,  some  discussing  the  everlasting  local  politics, 
and  some  saying  and  doing  nothing. 

Twilight  had  now  waned  into  night,  a  large  star 
in  the  clear  sky  shone  just  above  the  church-tower 
opposite,  the  reapers  had  laid  themselves  down  to 
sleep  in  various  corners  of  the  piazza,  and  several 
miners  who  had  finished  work  and  eaten  their 
frugal  supper  walked  up  and  down,  talking  to  each 
other  in  low  voices. 

I  enjoyed  the  perfect  beauty  and  quiet  of  the 
night  for  nearly  two  hours,  watching  the  men  of 
my  family  conversing  now  with  the  one  and  now 
with  the  other  of  such  of  the  villagers  who  had 
some  request  to  make,  some  State  secret  to  dispose 
of,  as  we  are  here  very  much  absorbed  in  local 
politics,  the  village  being  divided  into  two  "  sides," 
one  of  which,  the  ruling  one  just  now,  depends  on 
our  family  for  advice  and  guidance. 

'Tf  W  ^  ^  ^ 

When  eleven  struck,  breaking  the  silence  of  the 
still  summer  night,  we  gave  up  interviewing,  and 


266       SICILIAN  WAYS  AND  DAYS 

came  back  into  the  house,  where  everything  was 
quiet  and  gloomy,  though,  according  to  the 
invariable  custom,  there  was  a  glaring,  shadeless 
lamp  in  every  room. 

Two  of  my  relatives  sat  down  to  a  game  of 
cards,  and  I  began  to  hunt  about  for  Caluzza  and 
make  her  prepare  our  supper,  as,  if  I  did  not  do 
this  every  evening,  we  should  have  to  go  to  bed 
supperless. 

All  the  other  servants  have  a  way  of  disappearing 
in  the  evening.  Some  go  home,  some  fall  asleep 
on  chairs  in  the  vague,  distant  back  regions  where 
I  never  go. 

As  I  started  on  my  round  through  the  house,  I 
found  two  men  standing  in  the  entrance-room 
waiting  for  more  interviews,  but  they  had  nothing 
to  say  to  me  except  "  Bacio  la  mano,''  so  I  went  on. 

I  wandered  through  more  rooms,  and  found  in  a 
distant  one  the  mistress  of  the  house  engaged  in  a 
sleepy  gossip  with  the  missing  Caluzza. 

My  appearance  interrupted  the  conversation,  and 
Caluzza  followed  me  back  into  our  part  of  the 
house,  and  turned  off  towards  her  dear  kitchen 
regions,  where  the  darkness  was  made  gloomier 
still  by  the  feeble  glimmer  of  a  small  earthenware 
miner's  lamp  nailed  to  the  wall. 


A  SUMMER  DAY  AT  MONTEDORO   267 

I  stopped  on  the  door  and  watched  her  groping 
about  in  the  dark,  feeling  for  bundles  of  small 
wood  and  straw  with  which  she  was  to  cook  our 
late  supper. 

"  What  are  you  going  to  give  us  this  evening, 
Caluzza  ?" 

Her  answer  comes  in  a  sort  of  desperate  stammer, 
because,  according  to  lier  views,  one  item  of  food 
should  be  sufficient  for  our  supper  ;  but  she  knows 
by  experience  that  I  always  expect  her  to  put  at 
least  three  things  on  the  table,  to  pick  and  choose 
from,  or  in  most  cases,  to  be  able  to  eat  of  one,  as 
the  other  two  are  often  not  worth  looking  at,  let 
alone  eating ;  so  she  begins : 

"Eggs,  olives,  cold  pigeon,  anchovies,  cheese, 
spinach,  tomato  salad."  She  stops  abruptly  and 
stares  vaguely  at  me  with  her  one  eye,  as  if  to  say, 
"  Isn't  this  a  magnificent  supper  I" 

I  approve  of  the  salad  and  cold  pigeon.  1  know 
the  others  will  enjoy  all  the  rest,  so  I  express  my 
satisfaction,  and  ask  her  whether  the  table  is  set, 
though  1  know  it  is  not,  because  she  never  does  it 
until  she  is  told.  She  has  behaved  like  that  every 
evening  of  her  life  during  the  ten  years  she  has 
served  in  this  house,  and  will  continue  even  were 
she  to  remain  in  it  for  fifty  years  ! 


268       SICILIAN  WAYS  AND  DAYS 

"  Never  mind,"  I  say  kindly,  "  I  will  set  it 
myself  on  condition  you  hurry  up  cooking  your 
spinach  ;  and  pray  shut  all  the  doors,  so  as  not  to 
have  more  smoke  than  can  be  helped.  You  know 
how  your  master  scolds  when  the  smoke  comes 
into  our  rooms.  ..." 

Caluzza  has  several  masters,  which  accounts, 
perhaps,  for  her  waywardness  ;  but  when  I  say  your 
master  she  knows  which  of  them  I  mean. 

I  find,  on  coming  back  into  the  other  part  of  the 
house,  that  two  of  her  masters  are  still  at  one  of 
their  usual  games  of  cards,  that  the  two  men  in  the 
entrance-room,  tired  of  waiting  for  their  interview, 
are  interviewing  each  other  in  low  whispers,  and 
that  the  mistress  of  the  house,  for  whom  they  are 
probably  waiting,  has  fallen  asleep  in  her  clothes 
in  her  distant  bedroom.  So  I  try  to  give  an 
appearance  of  comfort  to  our  dining-room  by 
shutting  the  shutters,  clearing  away  all  that  is  in 
the  way,  and  setting  the  table  nicely. 

We  shall  only  sit  down  three  or  four,  as  the 
children  had  supper  at  eight  o'clock,  and  are  in 
bed,  and  all  the  rest  of  the  family  are  out  of  sight 
and  hearing,  except  the  two  who  are  playing  cards 
in  the  next  room. 

At  last,  just  as  the  melancholy  chimes  of  mid- 


A  SUMMER  DAY  AT  MONTEDORO   269 

night  are  sending  out  their  message  of  rest  and 
peace  over  the  hushed  village,  Caluzza  brings  in  the 
steaming  spinach,  and  we  sit  down. 

"  Go  and  tell  your  mistress  supper  is  ready,"  I 
say  to  Caluzza,  as  I  season  the  salad  of  fresh 
tomatoes  and  cucumbers  sent  up  that  same  evening 
from  our  Lavatore,  whilst  one  of  my  companions 
begins  pouring  oil  over  his  vegetables,  and  the 
other  divides  a  cold  pigeon  in  two. 

Caluzza  comes  back  to  say  her  mistress  will  not 
have  any  supper  because  she  is  "  sleepy." 

"  Asleep  "  would  have  better  expressed  it,  but  I 
keep  this  to  myself,  and  tell  Caluzza  to  fry  us  a 
few  eggs  and  to  shut  the  dooi\  this  with  a  meaning 
glance  at  one  of  her  masters.  She  understands, 
and  slams  it,  very  nearly  cutting  off  the  tip  of  the 
tail  of  our  best  cat,  who  is  just  coming  in. 

When  she  brings  the  eggs  and  sets  them  on  the 
table,  there  follows  a  rather  stormy  discussion 
between  her  and  one  of  her  masters  about  the 
bread,  which  is  stale. 

It  should  have  been  still  warm  from  the  oven, 
where  Annidda  takes  it  every  afternoon  to  be  baked. 

It  seems  that  the  bread  was  taken  to  the  oven 
towards  the  Ave  Maria,  but  owing  to  some  mis- 
fortune,   a    funeral    in    the    baker's    family    or    a 


270       SICILIAN  WAYS  AND  DAYS 

wedding — I  do  not  exactly  follow  them  here,  as 
the  dialogue  is  kept  up  in  pure  and  glib  Sicilian 
— it  was  not  baked  at  all,  nor,  indeed,  will  be 
until  to-morrow  morning  at  the  Salve  Regina  hour 
(sunrise). 

"  I  suppose,"  remarks  her  master  with  scathing 
irony,  '*  that  since  our  loaves  will  remain  all  night 
at  the  baker's,  they  will  cover  them  up  with  the 
family  blanket  ?" 

"  I  dare  say,"  answers  Caluzza,  not  catching  the 
bitterness  of  this  remark ;  "  they  are  sure  to  cover 
them  up  with  their  blanket :  they  would  not  be 
using  it  in  summer." 

This  little  difficulty  being  peacefully  disposed  of, 
we  proceed  through  our  supper,  and,  the  night 
being  very  warm,  I  open  the  windows  wide,  and 
enjoy,  as  I  eat  cold  pigeon  and  salad,  the  sight  of 
the  starlit  sky,  whilst  the  silence  abroad  is  only 
broken  by  the  distant,  mournful  singing  of  some 
threshing-floor  guardian  alone  on  the  hill. 

My  companions  talk  quietly  to  each  other  of  the 
usual  local  affairs,  and  Caluzza  comes  in  with  a  big 
dish  of  red  and  yellow  prickly  pears  (called  here 
jichidindia — Indian  figs),  which  she  is  to  cut  out 
of  their  thorny  skins  with  her  own  sharp-pointed 
pocket-knife,  when  two  loud  gun-reports,  following 


A  SUMMER  DAY  AT  MONTEDORO   271 

close  upon  each  other,  startle  us,  and  re-echo  all 
over  the  village.  They  sound  so  loud  that  they 
must  have  been  fired  not  far  from  our  house. 

A  short  spell  of  silence,  heavy  with  meaning, 
follows  the  reports,  and  then  loud  shrieks  startle  us 
out  of  our  anxious  expectation. 

My  companions,  who,  at  the  report,  had  rushed 
to  the  windows  and  closed  them,  one  of  them 
expostulating  with  me  for  my  unreasonable  wish 
for  fresh  air,  now  wildly  look  about  for  their  caps, 
and  rush  downstairs  and  out  of  the  house  with  the 
two  men,  who  are  still  waiting  in  the  entrance- 
room. 

The  loud  banging  of  the  front-door  brought  me 
back  to  my  senses,  just  as  the  mistress  of  the  house, 
who  had  been  called  by  the  frightened  Caluzza, 
came  in  rubbing  her  eyes  and  asking  who  had  been 
killed. 

1  told  her  what  I  had  heard,  and  we  opened  the 
window^  a  little.  Caluzza,  behind,  listened  too,  and 
we  heard  the  village  was  full  of  excited  rumours, 
and  everyone  was  calling  out  of  the  windows  to 
inquire  what  had  happened.  Just  then,  as  I  looked 
up  at  the  brilliant  stars,  one  o'clock  struck. 

We  had  not  long  to  wait,  however ;  a  loud  knock 
at  the  front-door  startled  us,  as  if  we  were  guilty, 


272       SICILIAN  WAYS  AND  DAYS 

and  Caluzza  went  to  the  window  over  the  door,  and 
looked  out,  saying,  "  Who  is  it  ?" 

It  was  Alessandro,  who  had  been  sent  to  tell  us 
what  had  happened. 

A  young  and  well-known  lawyer  of  this  place,  by 
name  Don  Pietrino,  was  crossing  a  side-street  to  go 
home,  when  he  was  shot  by  some  unknown  ruffian 
from  behind  a  wall.  The  murderer  had  not  been 
caught  yet,  though  already  he  was  being  searched 
for,  the  Mayor  having  sent  some  carabinieri  after 
him. 

Don  Pietrino  had  been  carried  dying  to  his  house, 
where  his  wife,  sister  and  mother-in-law  were 
shrieking  over  his  lifeless  body,  and  the  doctor  had 
been  sent  for,  though  it  was  not  expected  he  could 
do  much,  for  Don  Pietrino  had  a  bullet  in  his  loins 
and  another  in  his  lungs. 

The  mistress  of  the  house  and  Caluzza  listened 
impassively,  and  did  not  say  anything. 

"But,  Alessandro,"  I  exclaimed,  ''who  could 
have  done  it  ?" 

"  God  knows,"  answered  Alessandro,  with  the 
look  of  a  prophet. 

"  But  had  he  any  enemies  ?"  I  went  on,  and  his 
answer  was  characteristic : 

"  And  who  has  not  got  enemies  in  this  world  ?" 


A  SUMMER  DAY  AT  MONTEDORO  273 

Another  knock  at  the  door,  and  another  of  our 
men,  Turiddu,  appeared  with  a  very  grave  face. 

"  What  news  do  you  bring  ?"  I  asked.  "  Have 
they  caught  the  murderer  ?" 

"  No,  he  got  clean  away  ;  but  they  have  arrested 
the  person  who  is  supposed  to  have  prepared  the 


crime." 


"  Indeed !"  cried  the  mistress  of  the  house,  "  and 
who  is  that  ?  Answer  at  once,  Turiddu,"  she  added, 
when  she  saw  him  hesitate. 

"  They  have  arrested  the  Mayor !" 


18 


INDEX 


A. 

Alessandro_,     campiere,    47,    56, 
244,  247,  272 
Knowledge  of  Italian  Classics, 

60,  109,  110,  130,  143 
On  compari  San  Giovanni,  108 
On ' '  Feasts  of  the  Saturdays,^' 

78 
On  festas,  67  et  seg.,  6G 
On  funeral  dinners  (conzu), 

156 
On  Madonna's  black  veil,  93 
On  San  Calogero,  122,  140 
Almond-shells,  burning,  36 
Almond-trees,  159 

Damaged  by  burning  sulphur, 

182 
Orchards  of,  229 
Altar  for  7iovena-singmgf  194,  195 
A.nemone,  pink,  37 
Annidda,  40,  227,  229,  231,  236, 

239,  247 
Aragona,  134 
Arcangela,  232,  233,  238 
Asparagus,  wild,  196 
Author,  19  et  passim 

Brother-in-law's  funeral,  152 
Descends  into  sulphur  mine, 

173 
Developing  photographs,  227, 

231 
Habit  of  walking  and  riding, 
57,  58,  125,  141,  144,  158 
Hears  novena  in  house,  194 
Long  residence  in  Sicily,  xi 
Morning  coffee,  221 
Rides  to  Torretta,  255  et  seq. 
Room  at  Moutedoro,  23  et  seq. 
Ave  Maria.  246 


B. 

Baby's  cradle,  195 

Bambino,  visits  from,  252 

Bands  at  festas,  58,  59,  61,  62, 
63,  m,  67,  69,  70,  78,  104,  138 

Bathroom.  See  washing  arrange- 
ments 

Beds,  23,  112,  195 

Benediction  Service,  247,  248 

Braziers,  35 

Bread,  269 

Breakfast,  an  unknown  quantity, 
227 

Breakfast  on  mountain  side,  143 

Bridegroom,  51.  See  also  marriage 
customs 

Brides,  their  youth,  47,  56.  See 
also  marriage  customs 

Brigands,  xi,  141,  145,  244,  256 

Brothers  (Fratelli)  of  the  Holy 
Sacrament,  69,  80,  81,  93 

Butterflies,  blue  and  yellow,  144 


Calcherone   (mounds  of  sulphur), 

171,  180,  182,  183,  184,  185 
Caltanissetta,    province,    xi,    19, 
133,  134 
Sulphur  mines  round,  182 
Caluzza,  head-servant,   221,  222, 
223,  227,   229,  233,  239,  266, 
267,  268,  269,  271 
''  Calvary  "  at  Montedoro,  73,  76 

84,  87,  89,  187 
Cammarata,  Mount,  20 
Campieri,  19,  20,  146 
Campofranco,  88 
Canicatti,  58,  134 
Band,  61,  64,  72 
275  18—2 


276 


INDEX 


Carnations,  Alpine,  160 
Carusij  miner  boys,  172,  178  et 
seq. 

Demand  for  decreased,  181  n. 

Physical  and  moral  state,  180 
Casino,  47,  48,  64,  65 
Castelluccio,   Mount  and  Castle, 
160 

Chapel,  161 

Lunch  at,  163 

Stables,  162 

View  from,  161 
Cavalleria  Rusticana,  last  scene  of, 

166,  167 
Chiaramonte  family,  160 
Christening  customs,  xvi,  97  et  seq. 

Ceremony,  101  et  seq. 

Compari,  97  et  seq. 

Gifts,  100 

Godmothers,  100 

Processions,  101,  105 

Refreshments,  106 

Tapers,  108,  105 
Christmas,  192  et  seq. 
Compare  brotherhood,  xvi 
"  Continentals,''  29 
Cornfields,  21,  43,  115,  141,  148, 
144,  255 

Damaged  by  burning  sulphur, 
182 
Crocuses,  37 
Crucifixion,  representation  of,  87 

Deposition,  89 
Cypresses,  161,  256,  260,  262 


Demeter,  worship  of,  xiv,  xv 
Dinner,  guest's  place  at,  243 
Dinner-table,  mode  of  laying,  237 
Don  Pietrino,  272 
Don  Vincenzo,  144,  145 
Dowry-chests,  50,  52,  111,  195 
Drums  at  religious    ceremonies, 
XV,  45,  60,  62,  66,  68,  77,  80, 
85,  89,  96,  136,  148,  188,  189, 
191 
Dusting,  37 

E. 

Easter  ceremonies,   xiii,  xiv,   90 
et  seq. 
Blessing  houses,  91 


Easter   ceremonies.   Madonna  of 

wood,  92 
Edict,  manner  of  announcing,  198 
Etna,  Mount,  143,  161 


Fairs,  58 

Farmhouse  (fattoria),  143 

^^  Feasts  of  the  Saturdays,''  77 
How  organized,  78 

Federico,  Mastru,  overseer,  130 

Festas,  57  et  seq. 

Organization,  59,  60 

Fig-trees,  159,  255 

Fight,  a  stabbing,  166  et  seq. 

Fiorello,  Padre,  44 

Firearms,  19,  29 

Fires  of  straw,  28,  39,  225 

Flour-boxes,  230 

Franciscan  monk  at  Montedoro,  77 

Fruit-room,  230,  231 

Funeral  customs,  xii,  148  et  seq. 
Benediction  of  corpse,  150 
Corpse  carried  in  armchair, 

xii,  151 
Dinner,  xii,  xiii,  153,  156 
Mourning  calls,  152,  154 
Sacrament  procession,  148 
Women  wailing,  149,  155 

G. 

Genoa,  19 

Gibellini  sulphur  mines,  159 

Gill  furnaces,  180,  183,  184,  185 

Girgenti,  44,  133,  134,  161,  260 
Festival  of  San  Calogero,  135 

Girls  : 

Cannot  write,  50 
Marriage  portion  of,  50 
No  amusements  for,  48 

Giuseppe,  Padre,  159,  164 

Goats,  milk-white,  159 
Milk,  224 

Good  Friday  at  Montedoro,  84 
Processions,  85,  89 

Grapes,  230 

Guest's  place  at  dinner,  243 

H. 

Hair- dressing,  31 

Harvest  customs,  xiii,  xiv,  115  et 


INDEX 


277 


Harvest    chants,    118,    119,   120, 
127,  142 

Division  of  grain,  130 

Reaping,  117 

Threshing,  124  et  seq. 

Wages,  117 
Houses  of  the  poor,  50 

I. 

Improvisers,  197,  264 
Irises,  wild,  37,  100 

L. 

Latitanti,  244  n. 

Lavatore,  228 

Lent,  how  kept,  73  et  seq. 

Lenten  dirges,  xiv,  73,  86,  89 

Specimen,  74 
Leone,  watch-dog,  40 
Letter-carrier,  250 
Lipari  Island,  wine  from,  261 
Ludovico,  248,  251 

M. 

Maccheroni,  235,  230 
Madonna,  arrival  of  a  new,  44 
Madonna  of  the  Rosary  in  sulphur 

mine,  173 
Maids,  21 
Malaria,  233 
Marriage  customs,  47  et  seq. 

Ceremony,  53 

Engagement,  51 

Gifts,  52,  53 

Procession,  53,  55 

Refreshments,  54 
Maundy    Thursday,      meal     for 

Twelve  Apostles,  81 
Mayor  (Sindaco),  25,  28,  62,  71, 

72,  167,  168,  241,  251,  273 
Miners,  170  et  seq. 

Arditore  (burner),  183,  184 

Boys  {Carusi),  172,  174,  178, 
et  seq.     See  also  Carusi 

Characteristics,  176-178 

Day's  work  and  salary,  175 

Food,  175 
Moleti,  Ragusa,    quoted  on  com- 
pare brotherhood,  xvi 
Monk  begging  for  corn,  131 
Montedoro,  arrival  at,  20,  21 


Montedoro,  Christmas  at,  192  et 
seq. 
Church,  41 

New  Madonna  44  et  seq. 
Iraprovisers,  263 
Local  politics,  265 
Mining  region,  170,  185 
Rogation  Service,  xiii 
Summer  day  at,  221  et  seq. 
Mortaretti,  QG 
Mules  threshing,  124,  126 
Municipal  elections,  107 

N. 

Names,  custom  of  giving,  99 

Nardo,  233 

Naro,  134 

Native  pottery,  113 

Novena-smgm^,  192 

In  houses,  194 

Meaning  of  word,  193 

Rocking-song,  217 

Words,  197  ;  quoted,   198  et 
seq. 

O. 

Olive-trees,  159,  256 
Oranges,  230 
Orchis,  37 
Ornaments,  bedroom,  30 

P. 

Palermo,  19,  221,  232  ^ 
Funeral  custom,  xii 
Washing-closets,  27 
Palms,  benediction  of,  80 
Paschal    Supper  '  at    Montedoro, 

81 
Paton,  Picturesque  Sicily,  quoted 

on  religious  ceremonies,  xv 
Pears,  230,  232 

Prickly  (Indian  figs),  270 
Peppe  on  wooden  figure  of  Christ, 

88 
Pigeons,  228,  230 
Pirates,  162 
Pitre,  Professor,  on  San  Calogero, 

133,  135 
Pomegranates,  230,  232 
Post  at  Montedoro,  249 


278 


INDEX 


Eabbione,  coffee  at,  145,  146 

Rabbit,  163 

Racalmuto,  58,  159,  160,  161 

Racalmuto  Castle,  159,  160 

Rattles,  wooden,  85 

Reapers,  118,  141,  147,  268,  265. 

See  also  Harvest  Customs 
Reapers'  Mass,  123 
Reaping,  118 
Rocca  di  Sutera,  20 
Rocking-song  for  the  Epiphany, 

217  et  seq. 
Roman   sacrifices   for   welfare  of 

agriculture,  xiii 
Rosemary,  161 
Roses,  161 
Bosolio,  54,  106 


S. 


Saffron-flower,  87 
Salve  llegina,  247,  248 
St.  Joseph,  197 

Offerings  to,  at  Serradifalco, 

111 
Protector     of     miners,     60, 
171 
St.  Joseph,  Feast  of,  57  et  seq. 
Concert,  65,  71 
Fireworks,  70 
Offerings,  67 
Procession,  68 
Staff,  63 

Statue,  68,  68,  70 
San    Calogero,    121,     122,    123, 
129 
Account  of,  133  et  seq 
Etymology  of  name,  134 
San  Calogero,  festival  at  Girgenti, 
135  et  seq. 
Miracles,  138 
Pilgrimages,  135 
Procession,  136 
San    Giovanni    relationship,     97, 

108 
San  Salvatore  di  Fitalia,  134 
S.  Stefano  di  Calcinaia,  Tuscany, 

funeral  custom,  xii 
Santa  Lucia's    festival,    xv,    188 
et  seq. 
Procession,  188 


Santa  Lucia's  festival,  straw  bon- 
fire  190   191 
Santo',  225,  228,  245,  248,  250, 

252 
Sciacca,  134 

Sea-shells,  fossilized,  143 
Serradifalco,  19,  44,  58,  185,  243, 
249 
Calvary,  113 
Innkeeper,  111,  112, 114 
Inn  signboard,  110 
Lunch  at,  109  et  seq. 
Servant  for  running  errands,  234 
Shopping,  234,  235 
Sicilian  melodies,  119,  192,  193, 
196 
Mode  of  laying  a  dinner- table, 
237 
Sicilians :  Characteristics,  xi,  26, 
32,34,46,61,142,160,196, 
249,  253 
Devoutness,  76,  123 
Good  voices,  196 

Of  miners,  176,  177,186 
Sadness,  42 

Workmen  emigrate  to  Amer- 
ica, 117  n. 
Siesta,  244,  249 
Straw  fires,  28,  39,  225 
Sulphur  carts,  21 
Sulphur  crystal,  30 
Sulphur  mines,  159,  170  et  seq. 
Accidents,  186 
Burning     sulphur     damages 

vegetation,  182 
Convulsions  of  ground  round, 

170,  185 
Descent  into,  173 
Extraction  from  mine,  181  n., 

182 
Melting  process,  182  et  seq. 
Mounds,  171 
New  mine,  185 
Summer  day  at  Montedoro,  221 

et  seq. 
Sunshine,  192 
Supper,  267,  269 


T. 


Threshers,  125 
Threshing,  124 
Thyme,  161 


INDEX 


279 


TimCj     method     of     reckoning, 

246 
Torretta,  255 

View  from,  260 
Torretta,  Baron   of,  255  et  seq.j 

259  et  seq. 
Travellers,  their  security,  xi 
Turiddu,  163,  164,  250,  253,  268, 

273 


U. 


Umbrellas,  46 


V. 

Vegetation  damaged  by  burning 

sulphur,  182 
Virginedde  (little  virgins),  85,  87, 

89 

W. 

Washing  arrangements,   26,   27, 

226 
Water-pitchers,  30,  42,  113,  126, 

224 
Wild  flowers,  37 


THE   END 


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